Family Ties: The Beginning
by AuthoressMegz
Summary: AU. Hermione's daughter is starting Hogwarts, and she wants to learn about her unknown father. But the way they're finally reunited isn't exactly what she was thinking of. Meanwhile, Hermione is getting to know an old friend all over again.
1. Another School?

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Disclaimer**: I don't own Harry Potter okay?! Stop rubbing it in! 

**A/N**: Not gonna leave a long author's note because it's just the first chapter so there's not much to say. Just that this is _not_ going to be R/Hr romance, so it's not listed under romance. Hope you like the story anyway! Happy reading! (ppsssst… review!)

**Update**: I'm currently in the process of updating the chapters of both this story and its sequel at the moment, so if you notice any weird errors or anything in the next few chapters, don't worry! They'll be fixed soon. :)

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**Chapter One: Another School?!**

Hermione's POV

She's my life; my everything. I love her more than life itself. I'd die for her. She's the world to me. My daughter. My sweet, beautiful Aria. In two days she'll turn eleven years old – and I'm dreading it more than anything. Don't get me wrong. I love my daughter. It's not that I don't want her to grow up or anything (well, to a certain extent, I don't want her to grow up, but what parent really wants that for their kids?), and eleven isn't exactly old, but it's just that once she turns eleven, she's eligible for Hogwarts, and then she'll leave.

I don't want you to take this the wrong way. It isn't that I don't want her to learn magic, I do, I really do. And I know she can – she's no squib. I've seen vegetables disappear from meals; I'll look out the window to see the lawn perfectly mowed even though she hadn't gone outside all day; her room would suddenly be clean just seconds after I threatened to restrict her computer usage – so I know she can do it. Whether she does it consciously or not is a question, but that's not really important.

The real reason I don't want her to go to Hogwarts has nothing to do with any lack of confidence in her magical ability, because I hold no such opinion. I know she can do it – she'll probably be one of the best in her year. No, the real reason is that I don't want her to meet anyone who has any relation to a certain red-headed family by the name of Weasley. Not after what happened between Ron and me. Not after I ran away. I just don't want her to associate with them.

"Mum?" she asks, coming through the doorway with a squirming Crookshanks clutched tight to her chest. The big ginger cat is looking about ready to die from lack of air.

"Yes, dear?" I answer, gently prying her hands away from my poor cat's middle. He looks up at me with what appears to be a grateful look, but one can never tell with cats.

"Do you think Meghan and Jessica could sleep over tomorrow night?" she asks hopefully.

"Well…" I start off hesitantly. It's not that I don't like Meghan and Jessica – they're my daughter's best friends and all, but their mothers are extremely nosy people and they also happen to be Muggles.

"Please? My room's clean, I promise it is. Plus, it's my birthday in two days," she begs, looking up at me pleadingly with those blue eyes she inherited from her dad. I sigh in defeat. She had to play the birthday card.

"Sure, if it's okay with their mothers," I say, stroking her curly auburn hair back. She smiles.

"Thanks so much, Mum! You're the best!" She hugs me and runs up to her room to make a phone call, I'm sure. I smile fondly after her before setting Crookshanks down gently. He meows loudly and rubs against my legs, looking up at me pointedly. He's hungry.

After feeding Crookshanks I head to my study to get some over-due work done. Once there, I find, to my extreme annoyance, that my "thoughtful" daughter has once again closed the one and only window in the den. I've been trying to teach her for years to just leave it open, but she doesn't understand why, since I've never told her that owls deliver my post. Lucky for me she only comes in here about once a month.

I find three unopened envelopes sitting on my desk. One's from work – undoubtedly Carl, the man who works in the next ward over from mine at St. Mungo's. He's been trying to convince me to invite him over for dinner for years. I open that one first. It reads:

_Dear Ms. Granger_ (he insists on calling me that in every single letter he writes, even though he calls me Hermione in person and absolutely refuses to call me Healer Granger like everyone else does),

_I am once again writing in hopes that you will reconsider your choice. Hosting the "Healer of the Year" banquet at your home would not only be a good thing for your image, but could very possibly be the first step to a big promotion. Please reply a.s.a.p. with your response._

_Sincerely yours,_

_Carl Hendersoughn_

He never gives up. With a frown I take a fresh sheet of parchment and a quill out of a drawer.

_Carl – I've told you a thousand times, NO! I don't want a hundred Healers charging around my house when my eleven-year-old is trying to sleep, so please stop bothering me! Also, please stop recommending me for these functions in hopes that I'll invite you over to dinner because I won't! And one more thing – if you really wanted me to host the "Healer of the Year" banquet, you would have put your thoughtful letter in my mailbox at work, or left it in my office. It is very unprofessional to owl me at home, and I'd appreciate it if you didn't do it again._

_Not-so-sincerely,_

_Hermione Granger_

_P.S. Do you seriously think I _need_ a big promotion? I'm already Head of my own ward!!!_

Satisfied, I put that in an envelope and scrawl _Carl Hendersoughn_ across the front. Putting it aside, I look at the second envelope. This one is from my good friend from the office, Evalyn Jorgansin. We've been working together since I first applied for a job at St. Mungo's. I pull her letter out.

_Hermione –_

_Just thought I'd drop a note to tell you I won't be at work Thursday or Friday this week. My mum's cousin's daughter's best friend's boyfriend's sister's best friend (or something like that) is getting married and she insisted I be there. It's apparently a big deal. Well whatever. How's Aria? You know, eventually you're going to have to tell her she's a witch, Hermione. It's kind of inevitable, don'tcha think? Well, I'm not going to tell you how to raise your daughter, because you've never told me how to raise mine (even if she's only three months old)._

_I should probably get going. I'll see you at work on Monday, but I thought I'd give you a heads up now about Thursday and Friday in case we didn't have a chance to talk this week (you know how St. Mungo's can be sometimes). Hope you had a wonderful weekend, and I hope Carl hasn't tried to con you into dinner again. Love you, Mina!_

_Always,_

_Evalyn_

I smile. She knows me way too well. Not bothering to write a letter back, since I'll most likely just talk to her tomorrow at work, I turn to look at the third and final letter.

Slowly I flip it over. Oh, no. Not this. Anything but this. I stare at the Hogwarts crest, willing it to disappear. I turn it back over, looking at the name written neatly on the front.

_Miss Aria Granger_

It goes on to list our address, right down to the room she sleeps in. I sigh. Eva is right. Telling her is inevitable. With a deep breath I stand up and turn around. Standing in the doorway is my overly curious ten-year-old daughter, looking slightly confused.

"Why are you writing with a feather and an ink jar?" she asks, cocking her head. I can't help but smile at her. She looks so cute when she does that.

"Just because," I tell her. "But that's not important. I need to talk to you about something," I say, putting my arm around her shoulders and directing her toward the living room. She sits down on the couch and looks at me expectantly. I sit down beside her, playing with her Hogwarts letter distractedly.

"What's that?" she asks, pointing to the letter. I look down at it, then back up at her. She looks real curious and slightly confused.

"It's… it's for you," I say tentatively. She looks at it eagerly, and starts to reach for it. I hold it out of her reach. "Before I give it to you," I say, interrupting her protests, "I need to talk to you about a few things." She nods impatiently.

"Aria," I begin cautiously, "First off, I want to say that I've raised you to be an honest person whenever you can."

She cocks an eyebrow in an almost unbearable resemblance to her father, but she remains silent.

"And you don't lie very often, unless it's to protect your friends."

She gives me a confused look.

"And I want to say I'm sorry I've been keeping something from you all these years."

"Keeping something from me?" she questions, looking pointedly at the envelope.

"Aria, honey, you're a… well… you can do… you can do magic," I say hurriedly. She looks at me like I'm crazy and I sigh. This might take awhile.

"Magic? Like… card tricks?" she asks.

"No, like, well … like spells and things," I say.

She laughs. "Like Sabrina the Teenage Witch?" she jokes. I try hard not to scowl at her reference to the stupid American TV show.

"No, not like Sabrina the Teenage Witch. You can't do wandless magic."

"Wandless? So you have to use like, a wand?" Now she's starting to look at me like I'm a crazy person. Figures.

"Yes, a wand," I reply.

"Can you do magic?"

"Yes."

"Show me," she says eagerly. "Please show me?"

I smile at her. "Alright, come along," I say, heading back to the office where I keep my wand. I stand on tip-toe to reach the top of the many bookshelf. After scrabbling around with my fingers for a few seconds, I finally catch my fingertips around a long thin piece of wood. I manage to grab it, and I bring it down for her to see.

Aria looks at me skeptically. "That's a pretty cruddy-looking wand," she comments. I smile at her lovingly.

"It's also about twenty years old," I inform her. She looks at me with a mixture of awe and that same old skepticism – I assume she got that from me (the skepticism I mean).

"So are you going to show me some magic?" she asks. I nod.

"Let me close the curtains first," I say, pointing the wand at the window. The curtains close, seemingly of their own accord. She looks at me in disbelief. "Okay, do you want to see some magic now?" I joke. She gives me one of her 'are-you-crazy?' looks.

"_That_ wasn't magic?" she asks. I just smile at her and point my wand at her favorite charm bracelet. She shrieks when it disappears and she looks as if she's going to cry.

"It's GONE!" she screeches, looking at her wrist in disbelief.

"It's still there," I assure her soothingly. "A simple invisibility charm."

She feels her wrist and looks up at me with a grin on her face. "That's so cool," she says. "But could you make it visible again? Meghan might think I didn't like it anymore if she doesn't see it on me." I smile and reverse the charm.

"So I can do _that_?" she asks eagerly.

"Eventually," I answer with a smile. Telling her is much easier than I had thought it would be.

"Wait till I tell Meghan and Jessica!" she exclaims, starting toward the hallway. I grab her arm, and she looks back in confusion.

"You can't tell them," I say gravely. She glares at me.

"Why not?" she asks indignantly. "They're my best friends!"

"Because, if you tell them, they'll tell their mothers, and then they'll tell everyone else, and the whole town will think we're freaks. Trust me. Just keep it to yourself. You'll have plenty of friends at school who you can talk to about magic," I say, handing her the letter. She looks at it in confusion.

"Open it," I encourage her. She does so and reads it over twice before looking up at me incredulously.

"I have to go to another _school_?!" she exclaims, looking mad now.

"Well, you can't exactly learn magic in science class, can you?" I inform her.

"I don't want to go," she says, crossing her arms stubbornly. "I'm not leaving my friends just to learn stupid magic at this dumb school."

One tiny little part of me is absolutely jumping with joy to hear this, but I know I can't let my own problems interfere with her education. Aria comes first. Which is why it's my turn to play the mum card. And Hogwarts is _not_ stupid!

"Aria, you _will_ go to Hogwarts, do you understand me? On September first, we will go to King's Cross, and you will get on the Hogwarts Express, and you will spend the next ten months at Hogwarts, learning magic, making friends, doing whatever else you feel like doing there, but you _are_ going whether you like it or not. If you want to come home for Christmas, I'd love to have you here, but if you'd rather stay at school with your friends, I'd understand. Aria, I'm not doing this to be mean, I'm doing it because I love you, and your education is very important to me. Learning magic was the best thing that ever happened to me," I tell her. Angry tears well up in her eyes and she glares at me.

"I hate you," she whispers fiercely before wrenching her arm out of my hand and stomping up the stairs angrily. She slams her door, shaking practically the whole house.

I try not to let her words get to me. I know she's just upset that I'm making her go to a new school when she has so many good friends at her current one. But it hurts nonetheless. Oh well. I can't be a good mum and my daughter's best friend at the same time all the time. Life just doesn't work that way.

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Aria's POV

_ariacutie04_: i hate her meghan! i absolutely hate my mum!

_cupcakecream38_: wat did she do? u and ur mum _never_ fight!

I glare at the computer screen. That isn't true! I fight with my mum plenty. Just because I don't tell my friends about it doesn't mean it doesn't happen. I decide to ignore that last comment from my best friend and continue typing.

_ariacutie04_: she's making me go 2 boarding school! i'm SERIOUS!

_cupcakecream38_: ur NOT serious!

_ariacutie04_: i AM! megs this is AWFUL!

_cupcakecream38_: wen do u leave? and WHY?!

_ariacutie04_: i leave sept. 1st and i dunno why! she sed sumthin about 'my education is very important to her' and 'this is a good opportunity for me'. go figure

_cupcakecream38_: this SUCKS

_ariacutie04_: you and jess r still sleepin over 2morrow tho rite?

_cupcakecream38_: DUH! we wudn't miss ur b-day 4 the world

_ariacutie04_: gud, cuz i'm gonna miss you sooooo much wen i leave :'(

_cupcakecream38_: i g2g, aria, srry – ttyl, k? cya 2morrow!

_ariacutie04_: mkay – bye megs

_cupcakecream38 appears to be offline and may not reply._

I stare at the computer screen awhile longer before closing the instant messaging window. Slowly I spin the chair around and face my bedroom. It hasn't changed much in all the years I'd been living in it. My bed isn't a crib anymore, and most of the baby toys and stuffed animals now live in the closet – with the exception of Dribbles, the only stuffed animal in the room. I got Dribbles as a fourth birthday present (hence the cheesy, babyish name). He's a handsome golden brown Great Horned Owl. I don't know why I'm so attached to him – I have a whole bunch of stuffed animals that I've had a lot longer than him. The only way I can explain it is that I feel like he's sort of magical – not the kind of magic I'm going to Hogwarts to learn, but a different kind of magic. He's like my best friend. I can tell him _everything_. And he never judges me.

Dribbles looks down at me from his perch on one of the curtain rods. I put him up there a few months ago, because I figured a real owl wouldn't really like sitting on a bed.

There are a lot of photographs in my room – most of them are of my mum and me. Some of them are of Crookshanks. There's a lot of me with Meghan and Jess too. I look around and sigh. Not one of them is my father though. I don't even know his name. Mum won't talk about him. She says I have his eyes and his smile, but her ears, nose, and chin. I'm not sure how she can figure that out because when I look in the mirror, I don't really see anyone there but me. Maybe that's because I don't know who else I can look like, other than Mum.

A 'ding' from my computer makes me swivel around again. Jess is online.

_jessiegurl723_: aria, tell me wat meg said isn't tru! ur not really goin to boarding skool r u?! u CANT LEAVE US!

_ariacutie04_: sry, jess, it's true :'( i don't have a choice. its so not fair!

_jessiegurl723_: not fair at all! we're gonna miss u sooo much! u cant go! me and megs r gonna hav to start jr. high w/o u :(

_ariacutie04_:( not my fault

_jessiegurl723_: wat a horrible birthday present from ur mum, huh?

_ariacutie04_: lol :)

_jessiegurl723_: sleepover/b-day partys still on rite?

_ariacutie04_: whose birthday is it again :s

_jessiegurl723_: haha very funni – im still not telling u wat i got u :P

_ariacutie04_: darn it

_jessiegurl723_: hehe aw i g2g mums calling me 4 lunch ttyl lylas

_ariacute04_: lylas too – ttyl

_jessiegurl723 appears to be offline and may not reply_

I log out of instant messenger and shut down the computer. I walk over to my window and take down Dribbles. Meghan and Jess don't know how much he really means to me. They don't really pay attention to him because he sits up on the window.

"Well, at least _you_ can go to Hogwarts with me," I whisper to him, squeezing him tight. I sit down on my bed with him and just hug him to me. He's very comforting.

A reproachful meow from the foot of my bed makes me look toward my feet. Crookshanks is jealous of Dribbles. Silly cat. I set Dribbles on my pillow and pull the cat toward me. He purrs and rubs against my chin. I laugh and stroke his thick ginger fur lovingly. What would I do without Crookshanks?

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**A/N**: Okay, it's not the longest, but it's not terribly short either! Please review! And don't worry if it seems kind of confusing. It'll all make sense in chapters to come. Cheers! 


	2. An Interesting Shopping Experience

**Disclaimer**: I did it! I got to Europe, stole the rights to Harry Potter, and got back! I OWN HARRY POTTER! But wait, what is that annoying beeping sound? _(AuthoressMegz wakes up from dream and pounds on the snooze alarm)_ Aww, man! I _don't_ own Harry Potter! Stupid dream!

**A/N**: Alright, this is chapter TWO! Yay for chapter two! Keep on reading! As always, I appreciate your reviews!

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**Chapter Two: A Shopping Trip to Remember**

Aria's POV

I glare at my mum all through breakfast on the day of my birthday. Last night was a blast, but Meghan and Jess both had to leave early this morning. Jess is going to her great-grandmother's ninety-eighth birthday party and staying there for the rest of the week, and Meghan has to babysit her two little brothers today.

"What?" Mum asks when she catches my glare. I don't answer her. I'm still not speaking to her. How can she expect me to just leave all of my friends to go to some stupid school to learn magic? It's just not fair!

"Aria," she says in a warning tone, but I ignore her. "Aria, listen to me," she snaps. I turn my head to look at her, but I still don't say anything. "Aria, I know you don't want to go to Hogwarts – when I was your age, I didn't really want to go to a new school either, but you know what? Those seven years at Hogwarts were the best years of my life, and I'm not just saying that. I mean it. I had two of the best friends I've ever had there. It's an amazing opportunity for you. I'll make a deal with you alright?" she asks. Great, she's bribing me now. But she has my attention.

I nod to show I'll agree to her deal, but I still won't say anything. "I want you to go to Hogwarts. And I think, after spending time there and getting to know people, you'll grow to love it even more you're your current school. So you go there for one year, and if, after that one year, you don't like it and you want to go back to your Muggle school, I won't stop you. Deal?"

I have to think about it. One whole year away from all my friends and my classes? How will I keep up with my regular curriculum? And what the heck is a _muggle_? "Why?" I ask softly.

"Because I want you to see if you like it before deciding where you want to go to school for the rest of your school career," she informs me. I know what she's thinking. She's thinking that in one year I'll have made too many friends to want to come back to _muggle_ school (whatever _that_ is). Well, I'm gonna prove her wrong! I'm not going to make _any_ friends at Hogwarts, and then in ten months, I'm coming right back to my regular school with my regular, non-witchy friends! That'll show her!

"How about half a year?" I try. Ten whole months really is a long time.

"It's not open for negotiation, Aria. One entire at Hogwarts, and then, if you want to, you can go back to your old school."

"I just have one question," I say. She raises her eyebrows at me, giving me the go-ahead. "What's a muggle?"

Mum just gives me a smile and laughs a bit. "Let's go," she says, picking up a small drawstring pouch that had been sitting on the table right in front of me. Funny how I haven't noticed it until now.

I start toward the front door to get in the car, but Mum grabs my arm and pulls me toward the living room. She stands in front of the fireplace, looking at it as if it's the best thing in the world. And I thought she was weird _before_.

"Erm… Mum? Why are we standing in front of the fireplace? Car's that way," I inform her, pointing over my shoulder. She just laughs. I really think she's lost it now.

"We aren't taking the car," she says matter-of-factly, rolling her eyes. Ouch. That kinda hurt. But I can bounce back. I mean what am I, a wimp?

"Well, we can't exactly ride the _fireplace_ there, Mum," I say in a very mean tone. She hates it when I talk back to her.

"Are you sure about that?" she asks with a wink. It really bothers me when she winks like that. I dunno why.

"Mum, you're crazy," I say.

"Alright enough of that," she snaps. "You are a _witch_, Aria! You can do _magic_! And we are going to travel using Floo Powder."

"Does it give you the flu?" I ask, unable to help myself.

"No. Floo! F-L-O-O. Now listen. You take a pinch of it, throw it into the fire place..." I jump back in surprise as green flames leap up from the previously cold and empty fire place. "…and you say where you want to go. We want to go to Diagon Alley. Repeat that."

"Diagon Alley," I mutter.

"No, not 'Dargon Illy'. Say it right," she prods. "Die-ah-gone Alley."

"Die-ah-gone Alley," I repeat, feeling stupid now. "Why is my speech so important right now?"

"Because if you don't say it right, you'll end up in the wrong place. I had a friend who once wound up in the wrong alley because he said Diagon Alley wrong. Do you want to end up in Knockturn Alley?"

I think about this. "What's Knockturn Alley?" I ask at last. Mum rolls her eyes.

"A place I never want you to see. Now say it right."

"It right," I say, just to annoy her. Her glare tells me not to push my luck. "Sorry. Diagon Alley."

"Good. Now, you throw in some Floo Powder, step into the fire place, and say 'Diagon Alley'. You want to go first?"

"Not really…" Now I'm nervous. She wants me to stand in those flames? Is she nuts?

"Alright I'll go first, but once I'm gone, you come _right away_, understand me? No dawdling! If I have to wait for more than ten minutes, I'm restricting your computer from now until you leave for school, understand me?" she says, looking extremely serious now. I nod. She must mean it if she's threatening my computer usage.

"Alright, Mum, I won't "dawdle"," I say. She smiles in a somewhat annoyed way at my use of air quotes.

"Okay, now watch carefully." She grabs some flu powder or whatever it's called, and throws it into the fireplace. The green flames leap up again, and she just goes over and stands in them as if it's the most natural thing in the world. As if everyone's mum stands in their fireplaces on a daily basis. "Diagon Alley!" she says clearly. And she's gone. Wow. Cool. My turn!

I grab some powder. It's soft and ashy, and it feels kind of like sand. I throw it into the fireplace and the flames appear again. Feeling really stupid, I go to stand in the fire, preparing myself for the hot flames. But I don't feel anything. Just a little warmth! Weird… Oh, right. "Diagon Alley!" I say.

Suddenly I'm spinning, my elbows clunking against the sides of what seems like a stone chute. I tuck my arms to my sides to protect my already-sore elbows. As I go, I catch glimpses of other tunnels branching off from mine, and I can see into other people's houses for short periods of time. I wonder if I'll see Meghan or Jess's house, but it occurs to me that they aren't witches, and their fireplaces probably can't transport people all over the place.

All too soon the spinning stops and I find myself shooting out of a different fireplace – and landing on something that is clearly not the floor.

"Oomph!"

"Sorry," I groan as my elbow hits the stone floor with a burst of pain. The person pinned underneath me groans back when my other elbow digs into their stomach. I push myself off of them and try to sit up, but I'm still slightly dizzy from my trip, and I fall backward. I hear a chuckle, and I push myself up on my elbows to see who I have amused.

The guy – for when I look properly, I can clearly see it's a guy (a pretty cute guy with shaggy dark brown hair at that) – that I had fallen on grins at me and stands up. He reaches his hand down and helps me up. I stagger and he grabs my arm so I won't fall again.

"First time using Floo Powder?" he asks knowingly. I grimace.

"Is it that obvious?" He just laughs.

"What's your name?"

"Aria. What's yours?" I ask, gracing him with a smile. He smiles back.

"I'm –"

"JAKE PARKS!" an angry woman's voice interrupts. The guy in front of me cringes.

"That's me," he says softly with a grimace as a short lady with graying red hair marches up to him.

"Jacob Parks, what have I told you about running off?! Your mother has entrusted us with you, and if we _lose_ you, _you_ are not going to be the only one in trouble! You understand? From now on, you _stay_ with someone!"

"Mrs. Weasley, c'mon! Diagon Alley is just about impossible to get lost in. And besides, it's not _my_ fault I got held up!" the guy – now revealed as Jake – looks over at me meaningfully. I feel my ears burning and I silently thank God for giving me long hair.

The angry lady – Mrs. Weasley – looks over at me, and her face goes from angry to understanding to surprise. "Wh-what did you say your name was, dear?" she asks softly.

"It's –"

"Aria! There you are!" Mum says, racing up to me. She gives me a quick hug. "Don't make me worry like that!" she scolds. "I told you not to dawdle at home!"

"I didn't! It's not my fault I got held up!" I say, repeating Jake's words of defense. Jake smiles slightly.

Mum looks over at Jake and then to Mrs. Weasley. She pales visibly and grabs my arm roughly. "We're going. Come along, Aria," she snaps, dragging me along. I look back to see Jake looking confused and Mrs. Weasley looking very sad.

"Mum!" I yelp as her death grip tightens painfully.

"I don't want you talking to that boy again," she snarls, finally releasing me. I rub my upper arm as I try to keep up with her breakneck pace.

"Why not?" I ask indignantly.

"Just don't!"

"Do you have some prejudice against people named Jake Parks?" I ask, feeling my lip curl into a sneer. I quickly wipe the look off my face as she turns to me.

"What did you say his name was?"

"Jake Parks?" I question, confused.

"Oh. Well, I still don't want you to talk to him," she says, recovering from whatever shock she'd received.

"But Mum –"

"No. Now let's go get you fitted for your robes," she says, abruptly changing the subject.

"Robes?"

"School robes," she answers as we head toward a shop marked 'Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions'. If you ask me, this Madam Malkin needs to shorten the name of her shop.

We go in and a tall skinny teenage girl with long black hair hurries over. "Madam Malkin is with another customer right now. My name is Kara. I'll help you out," she says to me, giving me a smile. I smile back and follow her toward the rear of the shop.

"First year at Hogwarts?" she asks conversationally. I nod as she brings some black robes over and helps me into them. Then she kneels down and starts pinning up the hem.

"You'll like it there. I loved Hogwarts. There, that'll do. Now your sleeves," she says, straightening up. She's done within five minutes, and she helps me out of the robes again. "I'll be right back. Don't go anywhere," she says with a smile.

Five minutes later she's back with my robes all wrapped up in a package. She hands the parcel to me and goes to talk to Mum. Mum pulls some silver and gold coins from her purse and hands them to the girl.

"Come on," Mum says, directing me toward the door. She looks around. "Alright. You go down to that shop over there and get your wand. Here's some money for it. The gold ones are Galleons, the silver ones Sickles and the bronze ones Knuts, understand? It won't be hard to figure out. I'm going to go buy your cauldron and potions supplies. Meet me by the ice-cream place in _one_ _hour_ understand? You're welcome to wander the alley by yourself if you get done early. Just be back here by eleven o'clock." She hands me some money and heads off in the opposite direction.

Shrugging, I start toward the wand shop. 'Olivander's' it says. I go in somewhat uncertainly. "Hello?" I call out. An old man appears behind the counter. He smiles at me.

"First year?" I nod, and he comes toward me. "Which arm is your wand arm?" he asks.

"I'm right handed…" I say uncertainly. He nods and a tape measurer appears out of nowhere. He starts measuring. After awhile he leaves, but the tape measurer keeps on measuring. The man goes to the shelves upon shelves of long thin boxes behind him. He grabs four or five and comes back to the counter.

"That's quite enough," he says. The tape measurer drops and coils at my feet.

"Try this one. Willow, unicorn hair, nine inches. Nice and springy. Give it a wave," he says, handing it to me. I barely raise it before he grabs it out of my hand.

"No, not that one. Alright, this one. Eight and a half inches, oak, good and sturdy with a dragon heartstring core." This time it hardly leaves his hand before he snatches it back.

"Alright, how about this one…" It continues like this for awhile and before I know it, I've gone through at least twenty wands.

"You're a hard one to please," he mutters, going back to the shelves. "Ahh, yes this one is very nice," he says, pulling a box down. He takes it gently out of its box. "Thirteen inches, kind of long, but very nice structure. Made of the finest Ebony wood. Unicorn hair core. Try it out," he says, handing the long black wand to me.

I take it, and I feel a warmth in my hand immediately. I wave the wand and silver and gold sparks come flowing out if it. The old man grins. "Very good!" he exclaims.

I smile and pay for the wand. "I'll clean these up," I offer, gesturing to the twenty-some wands I've tried. He smiles.

"Thank you. I'll be right back," he says, disappearing into the back of the store.

I have about four wands back in their boxes when the bell over the door jangles. I look over my shoulder to see Jake Parks come in with a group of red-haired people. Mrs. Weasley isn't with them. There's a tall man and three kids – not including Jake – and they all have flaming red hair. Jake grins at me, and I smile back.

The tall man looks at me strangely with a look of wonder on his face. "Her –" he starts, but he's cut off by the door banging open.

My mum stands there, looking really, really mad. "Aria, I said _one hour_!" she growls. She glances around and sees Jake, and her face becomes even angrier. Then she catches site of that man, and her face becomes chalk-white. She comes forward and grabs my arm. "Have you paid?" she asks. I nod. "Good, we're leaving."

"Hermione?" the man whispers. Mum ignores him and drags me toward the door. "Hermione!" he calls after her, but she doesn't look back. I glance over my shoulder and cast an apologetic look at Jake and the man.

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Hermione's POV

I'm so mad at my daughter right now I can hardly think straight. I realize it isn't her fault that she kept running into that Jake boy today, but the second time, he was with… with _Ron_! Seeing Ron again… Well, I really don't want to think about how seeing Ron again after all these years made me feel. Especially not since he had four kids with him. And he _recognized _me!

Right now Aria is in her room. She's getting excited about school now. I know she is because the first thing she did when we got home was take all of her school stuff upstairs and start unwrapping it and looking at it all again. But that doesn't mean I'm not frustrated with her.

I _told_ her to stay away from that boy! It doesn't matter _why_ I don't want her around him; she shouldn't need a _reason_! The reason of course is that while I doubt he's related to the Weasleys – with a name like Parks, and the fact that he had brown hair, I honestly don't see how he could be immediate family. Possibly a distant cousin… Anyway, it isn't that I think he's related to them. Just that he's associated with them. And I don't want my daughter meeting any of those Weasleys. She doesn't need to know anything about them.

I suppose it's kind of unfair of me to have such a strong dislike of them really. I mean, _I_ was the one who left. _I_ ran away. _I_ kept big, life-changing secrets. But he could have come after me! He could have tried to find me! He just _let_ me leave!

Okay, I need to calm down. Thinking like this isn't going to change anything. Taking a deep breath, I glance at the calendar. Aria leaves for Hogwarts in a week. I only have one week left with my daughter.

In one week, she's leaving. And then she'll be surrounded by magic and new people … and Weasleys… I may just have to give up on keeping her from them. I mean… it's not as if she can learn anything from an eleven-year-old boy. Nothing important anyway. Nothing that would even make her think she was in any way related to… _Stop it! Just stop thinking about it!_

-.-.-.-.-_One Week Later_-.-.-.-.-

Today Aria is leaving for Hogwarts. Right now she's finishing her packing. In ten minutes, we'll get into the car, and we'll drive to King's Cross. And then she'll get on the train, and she'll leave me. And the house will be empty again.

Oh Merlin I'm not ready for her to leave. It seems like she was just learning how to walk and talk yesterday. No, I'm not going to cry. She'll be home for Christmas. And next summer. And maybe she won't like Hogwarts and she'll decide to go back to Muggle school. _Yeah, your parents made you the same deal remember? You _never_ wanted to go back to Muggle school after your first year._ I ignore the annoying little voice in the back of my mind as I hear footsteps coming downstairs.

"Mum, I'm ready!" she calls, bouncing into the kitchen with her trunk and owl in tow. She loves that owl. It's almost funny how attached she is to him already. I think her love of owls probably comes from that stuffed one I gave her when she was little. It's the only stuffed animal left in her room.

"Let's go then," I say, forcing a smile. She grins and starts toward the car. I sigh and follow.

The drive to King's Cross is full of her chattering about what she'd learned from her textbooks in the last week. I was right about her being good in school – she's already memorizing spells and charms. It's hard to be mad at someone I love this much.

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Aria's POV

At King's Cross, I follow Mum through that apparently solid brick wall and onto Platform 9 ¾. It's pretty cool walking through a wall. The platform is swarmed with people. I spot Jake with the red-haired family. Mrs. Weasley is hugging and kissing him and another guy. The other two kids are standing around looking bored.

"I'm going to miss you so much," Mum says, pulling me into a big hug. I smile up at her.

"I'll be home for Christmas," I promise. She smiles.

"If you don't want to come, you don't have to," she whispers, kissing me on the cheek.

"Yes I do," I answer, kissing her back. "I love you, Mum."

"Have a good year. I love you too. You should hurry," she says, giving me one last hug. I'm kind of expecting her to tell me to stay away from Jake, but she just kisses my forehead and pushes me gently toward the giant scarlet train. I look back and wave. She smiles and waves back.

On the train, I wave out the window to Mum until it starts moving and rolls out of sight. Then I set about trying to find a compartment.

"Aria!" a voice calls. I look around to see Jake and that other boy sitting in an otherwise empty compartment.

"Hey," I say, suddenly feeling shy. I walk into the compartment, and Jake helps me store my luggage up on the rack. The other guy – who I assume is related to that one red-haired man because he has red hair too – smiles uncertainly at me. I smile back just as uncertainly.

"Aria, this is my friend Sean Weasley. Sean, this is Aria… Aria… Hey, Aria, what's your last name?" he asks. I smile.

"Granger. Aria Granger. Nice to meet you," I say to Sean. He smiles. I smile back and sit down across from him.

We spend most of the train ride just talking about our families. I find out that Jake spends all his summers with the Weasleys because his mum is a close friend of Sean's aunt, and she travels a lot for work. Or at least, that's what she tells the Weasleys. According to Jake, his mum is always "traveling" for "business" when she's really on vacation with a new boyfriend. Jake also says that before this year – his first year at Hogwarts – he spent almost all year round with the Weasleys. Poor guy. I couldn't imagine not seeing my mum all year.

Sean's dad apparently knows my mum. According to Sean, they were friends back in school. Weird. Why didn't she even say hello to him in Diagon Alley the other day? In fact, when she saw him, she looked almost afraid.

"Look, we're almost there!" Jake exclaims, his nose pressed against the window.

The train jerks to a stop not five minutes later. We all but run out of the train.

"Firs' years over here! Firs' years!" a gruff voice calls. We walk toward it. A giant man is waiting there. "Ter the boats! Four ter a boat! C'mon now, no fighting," he says, prying apart two boys who were arguing over a spot on one of the boats. Finally we're all sorted out and we're all in boats. Sean, Jake, me, and another girl with long curly blonde hair are all in a boat.

"What's your name?" the girl asks.

"Aria. What's yours?"

"Skyla," she answers. "Skyla Janes."

We all fall silent as the castle comes into view. It's so big! It's absolutely sparkling with light. It's so amazing! And _I_ get to go to school here! I can hardly wait!

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**A/N**: Hope you liked this chapter! Please review! Love, the lovely AuthoressMegz. Cheers! 


	3. Of Friends and Letters

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Harry Potter, honestly! Please don't hurt me! I own Sean, Aria, and Jake though! And Keira, Abby, and Henry. And the plot! Oooh I own the plot! Haha! But just about everything else is J.K. Rowling's. ;)

**A/N**: This chapter is dedicated to Dreadnok, who gave me one of my longest reviews on the last chapter. This one's extra long for all of you! Happy reading!

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**Chapter Three: Of New Friends, Old Friends, and Surprise Letters**

Aria's POV

Everyone is oohing and ahhing as we walk up to the castle. The front doors are thrown open and there stands a man with black hair that is really messy, and he has bright green eyes. He smiles at all of us.

"Welcome to Hogwarts. I'm Professor Potter. Please –" he breaks off as some girl's hand shoots into the air excitedly. She bounces up and down as she waits for him to call on her. "Yes?"

"Are you _the_ Harry Potter? Someone told me you were," she says excitedly. The professor smiles.

"Yes, I am. Now, before we proceed, are there any more questions?"

Skyla Janes, the girl who rode in the boat with us, raises her hand.

"Yes?"

"What do you teach? Because my mum told me that when she went to school here, some teacher called Professor McGonagall who taught Transfiguration greeted the first years. Do you teach Transfiguration?" she asks.

"No, I teach Defense Against the Dark Arts. Professor McGonagall is the headmistress now. Now, please, children! We're –" he breaks off again, his gaze landing on me. He blinks once or twice, shakes his head, and clears his throat. "We're going to be late. Let's go."

We follow him through the doors and into a giant Entrance Hall. He stops us again in front of two big doors. "Alright, we're going into the Great Hall now for the Sorting Ceremony. Please behave yourselves," he says, and I notice how he looks straight at Sean and Jake. As if he knows them or something. They grin back.

We walk in, and right away I can hear the older students grumbling about how hungry they are. But they fall silent when Professor Potter stops at the front of the hall and we gather around. There's an old patched hat sitting on a three-legged stool in front of us.

The old hat suddenly bursts into song. Everyone watches silently as it sings on about inter-house unity or something like that. After it's done, everyone claps, and then it's still again.

"When I call your name, please come and sit on the stool," he says. He takes up a roll of parchment and calls out, "Aandros, Lauren!"

A small girl with short blonde hair hops up onto the stool excitedly. The professor puts the hat on her head. She sits there for a few seconds before…

"RAVENCLAW!"

The table second from the left bursts into applause, and Lauren goes to sit with them.

"Averson, Joshua!"

The hat is hardly on his head before it shouts out,

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

This time the table on the far right cheers and Joshua runs over there.

"Bryns, Kelsey!"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

The table on the far left claps as Kelsey makes her way over there.

"Carson, Michael!"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"DeLone, Sara!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

"Finnedy, Samuel!" Not too many left until me…

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Forrester, Daniel!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Foster, Brian!"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Professor Potter stumbles over my name as if he isn't expecting it. "Gr-Granger, Aria."

I go up and sit down on the stool. The professor puts the hat on my head and it slips right down over my eyes.

"_A good mind here. Very bright, very eager to learn. Not a timid one, either. Where should I put you?" _I hear a soft voice in my ear. And then, "_Well, I think you'd do well in _GRYFFINDOR!"

I grin and run over to the Gryffindor table. Brian Foster, Michael Carson, and Kelsey Bryns smile at me as I sit.

I watch as "Helmer, Cassidy" becomes a Slytherin and "Jamerson, Levi," becomes a Ravenclaw. Skyla Janes gets into Gryffindor and comes to sit beside me. I tune out most of the sorting until it's Jake's turn. We gain another boy in the process, Aiden Mydlin.

"Parks, Jacob!"

I swear I see Professor Potter wink at him before putting the hat on his head. The hat hardly touches him before shouting,

"GRYFFINDOR!"

I cheer along with everyone else as Jake jogs over and sits down across from me.

We wait patiently as they go through the rest of the P's, and the R's, S's, T's, V's, and finally get to the W's. We get one more girl, Karen Vemborrow before Sean's turn.

"Weasley, Sean!"

Professor Potter smiles at Sean before putting the hat on.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Sean grins and hurries to sit beside Jake. "I was so afraid I'd get put into Slytherin," he says, shuddering. Jake laughs.

"Slytherin? Weasleys don't get put into _Slytherin_! They've _all_ been in Gryffindor!" Jake says, rolling his eyes.

Sean's ears turn red, but he doesn't reply, because finally, the last first year has been sorted. A mean-looking woman with dark hair pulled back into a sleek bun, stands up, and the hall immediately quiets.

"Welcome to another year at Hogwarts," she says, and her voice is surprisingly soft. "To all of our returning students, welcome back for another year of learning. To the new students, I hope you enjoy your stay, and will consider coming back again."

Some people laugh, but I don't. I'm still thinking about that deal I have with Mum. I glance at my new friends. How could I have forgotten Meghan and Jess? I just forgot them and found these people. Angry with myself, I resolve to become less friendly with the people here. I want to go back to my own school.

"As always, the dark forest is absolutely forbidden. To _all_ students. It's dangerous and full of things you really don't need to encounter. Also, Prefects! Please come to me sometime tomorrow and collect a list of your house passwords for this term. And _please_ don't lose them! You are Prefects because you're _responsible_. Alright, I'm sure you're all tired of listening to me. Let's eat!" And with that, the tables in front of us fill up with food.

"Wow! Look at all this stuff! Sean, even _your_ mum can't cook all this!" Jake says, piling all sorts of things onto his plate.

"My grandma could," Sean replies, but it sounds more like "Ma guma cud" because his mouth is filled with mashed potatoes.

"No see cunnut," Jake answers, his mouth full of chicken, ham, _and_ potatoes.

"Ya uh! Ee ca ook ots o foo! Ay ore an is!"

"Yeah right! No one person could cook this much food," Jake says after swallowing. He rolls his eyes and goes back for more.

"Ma ama an ook o uch ore an is ot en unny!"

"You're grandma can't cook more than this so just drop it!" Skyla butts in. I look at her quizzically. How can she understand them?

"An oo!"

"Can not!"

"An oo!"

"Shut up!"

"Ona ake ee?"

"Yes, I will make you if you don't shut up!"

Sean eyes her suspiciously as if trying to decide how much of a threat she is. Finally he just lets the subject drop.

The rest of the meal is spent just eating and talking and getting to know each other a bit more. I find out that Skyla is Muggle-born. (Jake finally told me what a Muggle is.) Sean is what's called a pureblood, and Jake's mum is a Muggle-born witch like my mum. His dad's a Muggle, but he left when Jake was about five. That was about the same time his mum started "working" all the time, and sent him to stay with the Weasleys.

Sean's dad is actually a friend of Professor Potter's, so Sean and Jake have known him practically their whole lives, which explains why he was so friendly toward them earlier.

After what feels like an eternity, the lady at the front of the hall (I found out that her name is Professor McGonagall, and she's the headmistress) stands up and announces that it's time for bed. Some older kids start calling out to us.

"First years! Come along. No pushing! Just walk in a line! Come on!" A girl calls. Her companion – a bored-looking guy – calls out as well.

"Come on midgets, I'm tired! Can't you just walk in a stupid line?"

The girl swats his arm. "Tyler, don't call them midgets! Come along, first years! Let's go!"

She leads us up about a billion staircases before stopping in front of a painting of some fat lady.

"Password?" she asks. I find myself jumping. That painting just talked! I look around to see other paintings talking and moving as well! This school is so weird.

"Godric," the girl says. The lady nods and the painting swings open. Behind it is a beautiful scarlet and gold common room with a roaring fire in the grate and lots of comfy-looking couches and armchairs scattered around as well as tables with regular chairs. The walls are hung with scarlet and gold. It's so beautiful.

"Alright, girls' dormitories are over there, just go up the staircase; boys on the other side. Now, I'm going to bed, so if you need anything, come find me. Boys, feel free to bother Tyler whenever you want," she says with an evil smile at her partner. He glares at her and starts up the boys' staircase.

"Come on," Skyla says, pulling me toward the staircase. "Let's go see!" She leads the way and Kelsey, Karen, and I are left with no choice but to follow. The room is round (obviously, it's in a tower!), and it has four four-poster beds set up in it draped with scarlet hangings. The room itself is also scarlet and gold. We look around the room for our things. My bed is across from Karen's, which is beside the window. There is an amazing view over the big lake right outside. I smile and sit down on the mattress.

Maybe Hogwarts won't be so bad. I mean, I miss Meghan and Jess already, but I'll see them during Christmas break and all summer. And I can write to them. Of course, I'd have to mail it to my mum first because they can't receive owl post.

"This is really cool," Kelsey says, sitting down on the bed next to Karen's. Skyla's bed is beside mine, and she grins as she sits as well. I smile at Kelsey in agreement. Part of me can't wait to start, but the other part of me reminds me that my best friends are still at home, and I've known them a lot longer than I've known these people here. I can't like it here. I just can't. But that other part of me knows that I already do.

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Hermione's POV

Dinner is a lonely affair that night. I sit by myself in my study, eating a cold turkey sandwich as I try to get some filing done. A warm breeze blows through the open window, and outside an owl hoots somewhere. Part of me considers calling up Eva and asking her to come over, but I think better of it. She has a husband and a baby to look after.

An unfamiliar owl swoops through the window and lands on the perch I've set up in the corner. I used to tell Aria that it was a coat rack whenever she asked about it. The owl hoots impatiently. I sigh and force myself to stand. The owl sticks his leg out and I carefully untie the letter. He's a handsome owl alright. A male barn owl with a heart-shaped white face. His tawny feathers gleam, and he hoots appreciatively at me for relieving him of his burden.

I look down at the envelope in my hand. Simply, _Hermione_ is scrawled across the front in neat slanting handwriting that I don't recognize. Couldn't be someone from work. And I can't imagine that someone from the school would be writing me about Aria – she's only been at Hogwarts for about an hour now.

With a strong feeling of foreboding, I hook my finger under the flap and carefully slit the envelope open. Inside are at least three front-and-back pages written in that same handwriting. I honestly cannot imagine who would write such a long letter to me. Not even my own parents write that long of letters – in fact, they usually don't write at all. Telephones are so much easier to use, and I secretly suspect they're afraid of owls.

The letter starts off:

_Dear Hermione,_

_I can honestly say I have absolutely no idea why I'm writing to you, because the last time I thought about doing this, I was ready to wring your neck, and any letter you would have received from me at that time probably would have sounded threatening and crazy. The only explanation I can give is that when I saw you last week in Diagon Alley, you seemed absolutely terrified at the sight of me. Jake Parks, the boy who lives with us, says you acted the same way when my you saw my mother._

I gasp. It's from _Ron_! I start to put the letter down, but curiosity grips me. Why is he writing to me? For all he knows, I hate him. Well, part of me does, but part of me feels a familiar flutter in my stomach. _Stop it!_ I scold myself. _He has _kids_ now!_

Another little voice in the back of my head nags me, _So do you, but you're still in love with him, aren't you?_

I ignore the voice and continue reading.

_I just want you to know, I wish you would have at least acknowledged me after almost twelve years. Seeing you was the biggest shock I've had since I found out you were gone. At the time I thought you'd been kidnapped or something. But it looks to me like you're perfectly fine. Your daughter is a spitting image of you by the way. I almost thought she _was_ you and that I was eleven again. Of course, then you stormed in and dragged her out as if we had the plague._

_Why are you so scared of me, Hermione? Did I do something wrong? I'm trying really hard not to get mad at you, but it's not working very well. What right do you have to be scared of me? YOU_ _are the one who left! YOU disappeared! YOU lost contact! Why? Was it because of me? You know Hermione, I used to love you. I used to love you so much it hurt. When I found out you left, it almost killed me. Did you really hate me that much?_

_Hermione, I don't expect you to be in love with me. You have a life. A beautiful daughter, probably a wonderful husband and a high-paying job. You've obviously moved on. And if your daughter is eleven, then maybe you left because of her?_

_I just want to know why you left. You don't have to go into detail, just tell me. You don't have to tell me anything about your life now. All I ask is that you tell me why you left, Hermione! Because you broke my heart._

My eyes fill with angry tears. He has no right to talk to me like that! He doesn't know what I went through! And he should talk! My daughter is eleven years old, yes! But his _son_ is _also_ eleven years old! I saw him saying good-bye to him and that Jake kid this morning! Obviously he moved on pretty quickly!

I don't even want to read the rest of the letter. But I do.

_You're probably thinking I'm one to talk about moving on. I have an eleven year old son. So you're probably thinking that it didn't take me very long to move on. But you're wrong. Because while I do have an eleven year old son, it's not at all like you think._

_First of all, I searched for you for _three_ years, Hermione. I looked everywhere, and when I asked your parents, they wouldn't even speak to me. They looked at me like they wanted nothing more than for me to drop dead right there on their doorstep. _

I remember that. He'd shown up at my parents' house about a year after I left. I was sitting in the kitchen, and I heard his voice. I almost died right there. I had to put a silencing charm on Aria to keep her from attracting his attention. She'd only been a few months old at the time.

_They told me I wasn't to see you. I knew you were there, Hermione. I could hear you in there, muttering something or other to somebody, but your parents insisted that you weren't there; no one was. So I left._

_But I kept searching. I came back every few months to your parents' house, but they kept turning me away. The only time you were ever actually there was the first time. I think you had moved out by the time I found the courage to return._

_About six months into my search, I met Keira, who is my wife now. She was almost nine months pregnant at the time – not with my baby, I assure you. I met her in America while I was in New York City. You'd talked once of visiting there. I had to wonder if I might find you there. I do realize how impossible it would have been to find any one person in a city like that, but I was desperate. I was staying with a friend of Fred's who lived near Central Park, and I was taking a walk one day, and I ran into Keira – literally. She just about fell over._

_We got to talking, and I found out that her ex-boyfriend – her baby's father – had been killed about eight months earlier by one of the remaining Death Eaters in England. About half way through our conversation, she went into labor (what a way to meet your future wife huh?). Anyway, a few hours later, she gave birth to a boy with a whole head of bright red hair (she has red hair too, so it was kind of inevitable). She asked me to be his godfather, even though I'd only known her for a few hours. I agreed though._

_We talked some more, but I had to leave eventually because I wasn't family and visiting hours were over. But I visited her the next day and I told her about you. She looked like she really sympathized with me. She even helped me look for you. But two and a half years later, my search ended when your father threatened to have a restraining order put on me if I didn't stop asking about you. Of course, a Muggle restraining order really means nothing if you can borrow your best friend's invisibility cloak whenever you want, but I knew he was serious, so I stopped looking._

_By then I was really close to both Keira and her son, Sean. We finally became close enough that I fell in love and we got married. Sean was five__at the time, and I adopted him as my own son. I didn't tell you this to make you feel bad for leaving or to make you jealous (which you probably aren't). I simply told you in case you thought I was being a hypocrite – which I have been accused of being many times by my lovely little sister._

_I'm sorry this letter is so long. I just felt I owed you an explanation, but now that I think about it, I really don't owe you anything. I'm not mad anymore. I just wonder what life might have been like if you hadn't left. But I try not to dwell on it too much, especially now because Keira just walked in to tell me that dinner is ready, and it smells amazing._

_If you don't write me back, I'll get the message. I'm not going to beg you to forgive me for whatever made you leave, and I'm not going to stalk you or anything like that. For all I know, Hector will return tomorrow morning with your letter still attached to his leg. That either means that once again he couldn't find you or you recognized my handwriting and refused to open it. I'll assume the former though, because it makes me feel better about myself. Haha. Anyway, I should go. Abby, my daughter, is screaming at me that if I don't come to lunch _right now_, she's going to feed my meal to the wild kneazles that live in the woods behind our house._

_Please reply, Hermione. I'd really love to hear from you._

_With love,_

_Ron_

I sigh. Well now I feel really stupid. Am I so predictable that he knows what I'll be thinking even before I read his letter? Shaking my head, I sit down at the desk and pull out a piece of fresh parchment. Dipping my quill into the ink, I start off.

_Ron–_

_I received you letter. Hector seems to have finally found me. He's a handsome owl, I must say. But I'm not writing to discuss your owl's looks. I'm sorry for disappearing like that. And that time you showed up at my parents' house, I should have come out to speak to you myself instead of hiding like a coward. I apologize for the heartache I caused you._

_I want to be your friend again, Ron. I miss that easy friendship we used to have. Okay, so it was never easy, seeing as we fought about just about anything we could find to fight about, but I miss your friendship nonetheless. But I can't tell you why I left in a letter. It's too personal. Maybe we could meet somewhere sometime and talk? You could come to my place some weekend I don't have to work. Or we could meet in Diagon Alley. Whatever you want._

_Another thing. I'd love to meet your family if you wanted me to. If it seems weird, that's fine too. I just miss you, Ron. And almost every day I wish I hadn't left. Raising Aria in near secrecy has shown me how much I missed all of my friends from school. I'm so sorry for how I acted in Olivander's that day. And please give your mum my apologies for being so rude to her earlier that same day. I wasn't thinking straight. Please reply as soon as possible. If I don't respond right away, I'm probably working. I'm one of the head Healers at St. Mungo's, and it's hard work._

_I should get going. Hector's beginning to look a bit impatient. I hope your dinner was delicious._

_Sincerely,_

_Hermione_

Satisfied, I give Hector the letter and he swoops out the window, flying off into the night. I watch him until he disappears among the stars.

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Ron's POV

I'm awoken by a persistent tapping on the windowpane beside my head. I try to ignore it, but the tapping only grows more rapid. Finally I throw off the covers and jump out of bed, ready to kill the stupid bird outside my window. But when I see that it's Hector, and he has a letter in his beak – not attached to his leg, like the one I'd sent to Hermione – I want to kiss the annoying bird. Of course, that would be disgusting, so I just throw the window open instead.

He swoops in and drops the letter on my head before flying up to sit on top of the wardrobe where he usually sleeps during the day. I grab the envelope – it isn't nearly as thick as the one I sent to her – and I tear it open eagerly.

The letter is pretty short – only one page long on one side. But it doesn't say 'I hate you' or 'Never speak to me again'. It's an apology. It's an offering of friendship. An offer to turn back time and forget this ever happened. Of course, things wouldn't be exactly the same. But she doesn't want me to stay as far away from her as possible – she wants to meet with me; she wants to talk to me!

I feel a big bubble of happiness rise up in my chest and I feel myself grinning. I have to tell Keira. I can already hear her in the kitchen with Abby. Taking the steps three at a time, I hurry downstairs. Keira looks up at me with her soft blue eyes and her long curly dark red hair. Abby is a spitting image of her. Only her eyes are darker blue. An unnatural shade of navy almost.

"Hey, Daddy!" Abby says with a grin. "Guess what?" she says excitedly.

"What?" I say, just to amuse her.

"I'm going to be four in THREE days!" she exclaims, jumping up.

"You are?" I ask, feigning stupidity.

"Daddy!" she exclaims, looking like she's ready to cry. "Don't you remember?"

With a grin, I scoop her up and twirl her around. She giggles and I cradle her in my arms like a baby.

"Of course I do, sweetheart. I'm your dad. How can I forget the day my only daughter was born, huh?" I kiss her on the forehead and set her down. She hugs me and runs off to Merlin-knows-where.

"You're in a good mood," Keira comments, dishing up bacon and scrambled eggs.

"I got a letter today," I say vaguely.

"From who?" she asks, oblivious. I smile at her.

"Hermione."

Her first reaction kind of scares me. She frowns for just a split second. But it's replaced almost instantly by a look of happiness.

"That's great," she says. I can tell she's lying though. Her jaw is really tense. She forces a smile at me and hands me the plate.

"Thanks," I say, sitting down. I'm not sure what I'm saying thanks for though. The food or her lie.

"She wants to meet with me," I add, hoping I sound kind of off-hand. I see her frown again.

"Oh? What for?" she asks. Her voice is high and false, like she's trying really hard not to scream at me. She uses that voice on Sean and Jake all the time.

"She wants to tell me why she left," I say.

"Can't she just tell you in a letter?" she asks, and she's starting to sound frustrated. I don't get it. She used to be so encouraging. 'She'll answer, Ron' or 'Maybe she's just really busy right now' or 'Give it some more time, Ron. It'll be alright.' Those were things she used to say whenever I tried writing Hermione. And now she acts like she wants nothing more than to turn back time and burn that letter before I ever get to see it.

"She said it was too personal," I reply, shrugging. I honestly don't see the big deal about meeting with Hermione for lunch or something. Well, I do, but in a different way than my lovely wife over there.

"If it's so personal, then why does she want to tell you at all?" Keira snaps.

"What's the matter with you?" I ask, feeling hurt that she isn't sharing my happiness. "You know how much I wish Hermione and I could still be friends. I thought you'd be happy that she finally wrote back! You always used to encourage me when I wrote letters before!"

"Yes, I encouraged you!" she says, her voice rising. Tears are starting to well in her eyes. "But that was when I thought there was _no_ chance of her _ever_ writing back! That was before she suddenly decided that she wanted you back!" And on that lovely note, she flees from the room in tears.

I can't move for a few minutes. Keira's _jealous_ of Hermione?! That's _crazy!_ I _love_ Keira! I have a family with her! I'm not going to throw away my whole life just for some girl I thought I was in love with when I was nineteen years old! Well, I'll just have to show Keira that even if Hermione _does_ want me back – which she probably doesn't – I'll never betray my family. I have three wonderful children – a daughter I could never replace – and she thinks I'm going to give it all up for Hermione? Is she crazy?

Oh don't get me wrong. I have nothing against Hermione. But I'm not in love with her anymore. No, I've moved on. And apparently, so has Hermione. She _does _have a daughter now.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Keira avoids me for the rest of the day by taking Abby and our youngest son Henry to Diagon Alley for some shopping and ice-cream. Abby looked worried as they left. I think she heard us fighting earlier.

After they left, I wrote Hermione a letter telling her we could meet today if she wanted to. I told her that if she didn't mind, I could go over to her place and we could talk. Now all I have to do is wait for a reply.

I'm reading a book on famous Quidditch players when Hector comes back, flying faster than I knew he could fly. Hermione must have told him to hurry. He drops the letter on top of my book and flies away to somewhere or other.

I tear open the letter with anticipation.

_Ron-_

It still bothers me that she won't even say _Dear Ron_, but I ignore that.

_I'm glad you got back to me so quickly._

What is it with her? She's always so formal! If I was writing this letter it would say, _Thank you SO MUCH for answering me so fast!!!!!_ Or something like that.

_If you want to meet today, that would work perfectly. I've taken the afternoon off from work to avoid one of my more annoying coworkers. But I can tell you more about that later. Please feel free to come visit any time now. I'm looking forward to our meeting._

_Sincerely,_

_Hermione_

I can forgive the formalness of her letter. I look on the back of the parchment. Her address is scrawled hastily across the back. I grab my jacket and apparate, leaving the letter on the chair with my book.

The house I appear in front of – I look quickly up and down the street just in case some Muggles are in the area, but no one seems to notice me – is rather small, but it's clean and it has a nice flowerbed in front of it. Kind of like I'd expect Hermione to live in. She can be rather predictable sometimes.

Hesitantly, I knock on the door. It opens almost instantly, like she was waiting on the other side or something. She looks up at me and freezes, like she's not sure whether this was really a good idea. I look down at her and I feel an almost forgotten feeling in my gut. I ignore that feeling and attempt a smile.

"Hey, Ron," she whispers, smiling awkwardly. "Come on in."

I follow her into a small hallway. On the left is a small sitting room, and to the right is a kitchen. I see another doorway a little further down the hall and there's one door at the very end.

She leads me into the sitting room and perches on the edge of a comfy-looking armchair. I stand for a second or two, looking around the room before settling myself onto her sofa.

"I'm really glad you invited me over," I start, not knowing what else to say. She just looks at me and then closes her eyes and takes a deep, shaky breath.

"Yeah," she says at last. "Me too." She stands up and I start to stand as well. "No, you can stay here. Would you like something to drink?"

"Just water," I answer. She nods and disappears into the kitchen. After she leaves, I stand and wander over to her fireplace. A little drawstring pouch of Floo Powder is sitting on the mantel beside about a dozen pictures of who I can only assume is her daughter.

The first one is a picture of a baby girl dressed up in purples and blues with her short auburn hair in a bow. She looks to be about six months old in this picture, and she's grinning at the camera. The next one is obviously her first birthday. She's dressed up in a red party dress and Hermione is standing over her, probably encouraging her to blow out her candles. The little girl is looking at the cake hungrily. I smile at that one.

The third one isn't a birthday party, but it's probably from when she was two. I'm starting to see a pattern here. The little girl is sitting in the big armchair that Hermione was sitting on earlier, and she has none other than cranky old Crookshanks in her lap. I can't believe that thing was still around when she was a little kid.

The rest of the pictures show a variety of people. As Hermione's daughter gets older in the pictures, I notice how two other girls appear in the frames more. The last picture has the three girls sitting at Hermione's kitchen table with a cake in front of them. The middle one is her daughter, and she's grinning at Hermione, but the smile looks kind of fake. Like she wasn't really all that happy. Her two friends have equally fake-looking smiles. This wasn't taken too long ago I suppose. Probably the girl's eleventh birthday.

"Hey."

I jump at the sound of Hermione's voice. She's watching me from the doorway with a glass of water in one hand and a glass of tea in the other. She comes toward me and hands me my water.

"Thanks," I say, taking a big gulp because I'm not sure of what else to do.

"What do you think?" she asked, gesturing to the pictures.

"She looks like you," I comment, but I can tell she's waiting for something else. I'm not sure what though. I glance over all the pictures again, and then at her. Her left hand, which is the hand holding her glass, is shaking slightly. She's not wearing a ring.

"Aren't you married?" I ask bluntly. She winces slightly at the suddenness of my question.

"No," she murmurs, looking away at the pictures. I'm really confused now. If she's not married, but she has a daughter, who the hell is the father? And why isn't she married to him?

"Then…" I trail off because I don't know what to say. Too many questions are building up in my mind at the moment.

"We really need to talk," she says, directing me back to the couch. She looks really nervous as she sets her glass on a coaster and folds her hands in her lap.

"Okay," I say. "What about?"

She looks at me for a long time, biting her lip. I want to somehow comfort her, but I don't know how. I seem to have forgotten.

"You were right when you said I left because of Aria," she starts off. I knew it! "But not to be with her father," she adds. My momentary triumph falters.

"Okay…"

"I was … well, I was kind of running _away_ from her father," she says, looking away from me. She looks almost scared now, and I feel a strong urge to go over there and hug her. But I don't. I sit on her couch and watch her as she takes deep breaths to calm herself. This isn't the Hermione I know. I don't know who this woman in front of me is. The Hermione I know is confident, smart, funny, caring, loving. She's not this scared, agitated thing sitting in front of me. She looks so lost.

I don't say anything about her last comment. I have nothing to say. I'm still confused.

"Ron…" she looks at me, and those brown eyes are full of emotion. Sadness, hurt, fear, a bit lost. But most of all I see loneliness. She's so lonely. She had to raise that little girl all by herself, and now her daughter's gone off to Hogwarts, and Hermione is stuck living by herself for ten long months of silence. Ignoring the part of me warning me not to move, I stand up, walk over to her, and hug her.

She looks up at me in surprise, but she doesn't push me away. She takes big shaky breaths and leans against me. I feel wetness on my shoulder and I hug her tighter. Soon she's shaking with loud, heavy sobs, and she's clinging to me.

"Shh," I say, rocking her gently back and forth. The more humorous part of my brain recognizes this situation as slightly funny. That I'm holding Hermione as if she were my three-year-old daughter.

"Ron, you're going to hate me," she sobs, not letting go of me. I shift to a more comfortable position.

"I could never hate you, Hermione," I say quietly, smoothing her hair.

"You will when I tell you why I left," she mumbles.

"No, I won't."

"Oar Rs Athr," she says. I almost don't catch that. And at first I wonder if I heard her right. Maybe she said something else. I take her by the shoulders and force her backwards from me so I can look into her face.

"What did you just say?" I ask, just to make sure.

"You're Aria's father," she repeats.

* * *

**A/N**: Dun, dun, DUN! Oh don't you all love cliffies?! I doooo! _(AuthoressMegz laughs evilly while readers gather pitchforks and torches)_ Okay, seriously now! Please review! Cheers! Love, Your lovely Authoress. 


	4. Friendships Lost and Found

**Disclaimer**: You know, for Christmas, I'm going to ask Santa to bring me the rights to Harry Potter! Huh? What do you MEAN there's no Santa?! Are you SERIOUS?! No, I _know_ you're not Sirius! I didn't mean . . . oh _NEVER MIND_! I don't own anything okay?

**A/N**: Not much to say for this chapter. Just a note: Henry's about eighteen months old or so for any of you who were wondering. Also, in chapter one, Aria says that she has her dad's smile, and in this chapter Ron says that she has Hermione's smile – that's just a matter of opinion between Ron and Hermione (they both believe her to have the other's smile). Happy Reading!

* * *

**Chapter Four: Friendships Lost and Found**

_Ron's POV_

"_Oar Rs Athr," she says. I almost don't catch that. And at first I wonder if I heard her right. Maybe she said something else. I take her by the shoulders and force her backwards from me so I can look into her face._

"_What did you just say?" I ask, just to make sure._

"_You're Aria's father," she repeats._

-:-:-:-:-:-

I want to ask her again what the hell she means, but I figure she'd just get even more upset, so I stay silent, feeling like someone dumped ice water over my head and then slapped me. I stare at her for a few seconds, my mind reeling with shock, and she looks back at me nervously. Without really realizing it, I let go of her shoulders. I feel those pictures tugging at me, and I turn to look at them again. The reddish-brown hair, the freckles, the blue eyes – it all makes sense. Hermione's hair is dark brown, she doesn't have freckles, and her eyes are brown. Aria might look like her mum in some respects, but looking at all those pictures again, the only person I see in her – at the moment anyway – is me.

Of course, as I look harder, I see Hermione in there a lot too. Otherwise I wouldn't have thought that I was seeing an eleven-year-old Hermione again in Diagon Alley. But her eyes, her hair, even her freckles… That smile though ... that's Hermione's. And those fine cheekbones, and that sharp, intelligent look to her. Her hair isn't quite as bushy as Hermione's was at that age – it's curlier like Ginny's was when she was younger.

I can feel Hermione's gaze on me as I look at the pictures again in a whole new light. I feel an overwhelming sense of sadness deep in my stomach as I look at them. I missed out on her whole life. Her first birthday, and all the birthdays that followed those. I missed seeing her first smile, her first steps. The first time she laughed. Her first words.

I look around the room and I see subtle signs that an eleven-year-old usually occupies this area. There are books scattered everywhere for one thing – not just Hermione's books either. I can see one thing Aria inherited from her mother was her love of books. There are a few pairs of shoes kicked haphazardly in one corner. A red sweater is draped carelessly over the back of a chair. There is a letter sitting on the coffee table, half covered by a thick book that is obviously Hermione's. I can just see the edge of a red crest. I assume it's Aria's Hogwarts letter.

"Say something," Hermione whispers. She's still staring at me anxiously.

"I don't know what you want me to say," I say back. My voice is hoarse and scared-sounding.

"Anything," she replies.

All I can do is shake my head. Words from this morning at breakfast ring in my head. What I said. What Abby said.

"_Daddy!" she exclaims, looking like she's ready to cry. "Don't you remember?"_

_With a grin, I scoop her up and twirl her around. She giggles and I cradle her in my arms like a baby._

"_Of course I do, sweetheart. I'm your dad. How can I forget the day my only daughter was born, huh?" I kiss her on the forehead and set her down._

I can hardly believe that less than three hours ago I thought I only had one daughter. And now I find out that I have two.

"Ron?"

"Hermione."

"Please say something." She looks close to tears again.

"I really don't know what to say," I answer, feeling helpless.

"Are you mad?"

"No…" Well, not yet. I'm still too shocked to be mad.

"I'm sorry," she murmurs. I can't help but smile at her.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," I reassure her. But I know that's not true. I can already feel my anger starting to simmer. This isn't good. I don't want to yell at her. She's in such a fragile state. I'm afraid that if I yell at her, she won't ever let me come back.

"Yes, I do. I shouldn't have left. I was just so scared. I was afraid you wouldn't love me anymore."

The words come tumbling out of my mouth before I can stop them. "I could never stop loving you, Hermione." And now I feel really, really, really stupid. And completely horrible.

She just stares at me sadly for a few seconds before standing up and walking to the other end of the room. She stands by the fireplace and stares at the pictures of her – sorry, _our_ – daughter.

"Hermione…" I start, but she silences me with just a look.

"Please don't," she says, her voice shaky and scared. "Just don't, Ron."

"I shouldn't have said that," I whisper.

"Yeah," she agrees. I feel myself wincing.

"Can we start that over?" I ask hopefully. She shrugs her shoulders uncertainly. Now I'm absolutely positive that this isn't the same person I knew when I was nineteen. This is a different woman entirely. The Hermione I knew _despised_ people shrugging their shoulders.

"I'm sorry," she whispers.

"Me too."

She looks at me funnily. "For what?"

I shrug, and I see a flicker of annoyance in her eyes. Hypocrite. "Everything," I answer, and she looks at me in confusion.

"Everything…?"

"I should have tried harder to find you. I should have been more supportive so you felt like you could talk to me. I shouldn't have picked fights with you. I shouldn't have pressured you so much. I don't know, Hermione. I just feel like everything is going wrong today. No matter what I do, I can't make everyone happy," I tell her, finally expressing how I've been feeling all day.

"No one can make everyone happy," she tells me matter-of-factly, and for a split second I can believe that I have that sassy nineteen-year-old back. But she's gone as fast as she came. All I see in front of me is a tired and lonely, overworked mum who really needs a break.

"I can try though can't I?" I ask cheekily, and I see a fond smile pass over her features fleetingly.

"Anyone can try," she answers with a soft smile. "But no one ever succeeds." She looks at me for a few moments before speaking again. "What exactly did you mean by that anyway?"

"Keira's reaction to your letter? Not so good. I think she's mad at me. She didn't think I'd ever find you. She thinks … she thinks you want me back. I don't know what's gotten into her lately. She's been acting really strange," I say, frowning. "Merlin, I hope she's not pregnant," I mutter to myself, remembering all the emotional strain I'd gone through while she was pregnant with Henry. Hermione smiles slightly at me in an amused way.

"I'm sorry," she says quietly. "I didn't mean to cause problems for you."

"It isn't your fault. She's always been so supportive. I think she's jealous."

"Of me?" Hermione looks really uncomfortable now.

"She'll get over it," I assure her. "Once she sees that I'm not going to go gallivanting off and leave her with three kids – four if you count Jake, but with him it's more like having five. He's just like Fred and George rolled into one person. If you didn't know better, you'd say he was a Weasley."

Hermione smiles again. "How is everyone?" she asks.

"Good," I say, unsure of how else to answer. Then I realize that she hasn't seen anyone for almost twelve years. "George was married, but it didn't work out. She was too stuck up for him. She left him with four kids to raise all by himself. Poor guy. But they're doing fine, unless you count George, who's down in the dumps – she just left a few weeks ago. Bill and Fleur live in France, and they have a couple of kids now. A boy and a girl. They both look more like Fleur. Percy's still at the Ministry – of course – and he married Penelope Clearwater of all people. They have two kids – both girls. Charlie is still in Romania, but he's married. Only one kid – a boy. He's a handful, let me tell you," I say with a grin.

"What about Ginny?" she asks softly.

I grin at her. "She married Harry, what did you expect? They have at least five kids now. I've lost count. Only joking," I say quickly when I catch her look of exasperation. Again I see the shadow of a feisty nineteen-year-old in her eyes, but it disappears once more.

"They have five kids," I say again. "Three girls and two boys."

Hermione just nods. I can tell she's trying not to think about all the weddings she missed out on. All of the baby showers and all of the birthday parties and family reunions. All of the Christmases that she wasn't a part of. She stares hard at the wall behind me, and refuses to look me in the eye.

"You have three kids?" she asks uncertainly. "Two boys and a girl right?"

"Four," I correct her pointedly, and she winces.

"I said I was sorry," she says defensively. Again I can feel my anger bubbling up, and I try really hard to repress it. I really don't want to yell at her.

"I know," I say, running a hand through my hair. "Yes," I add, to answer her question. "Two boys and a girl. Sean, Abby, and Henry."

"Good names," she says softly.

"Thanks," I reply. I know I sound blunt and angry. "Aria's a lovely name," I whisper, softening my tone. I'm not sure she heard me, because she doesn't meet my eyes.

"Thank you," she mumbles at last. This meeting isn't going at all like I'd hoped. I can hardly think of anything to say. I feel completely awkward around her. I look at her standing uncertainly by the mantle and I feel a sudden wave of guilt. If it weren't for me, she wouldn't be standing right there right now. She wouldn't be this frightened, lonely person. She wouldn't be living here, alone. But then again, she wouldn't have Aria either. Again with the guilt.

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Aria's POV

The first day of classes has everyone excited. Skyla wakes me up early and drags me out of bed. She's already dressed in her school robes, her uniform perfect and neat. I remember how the older students looked last night, and I can bet that none of them will look like she does now. Her outfit is absolutely perfect. Not a wrinkle or a crease. No lint or dust. No stray hairs on the shoulders.

"Get dressed! I want to show you something." she says excitedly, throwing my clothes at me. I pull them on grudgingly, not bothering to fix the robes hanging half off my shoulders. I quickly brush my hair and scoop it into a ponytail. Skyla then proceeds to drag me out of the dormitory room and down into the Common Room.

"What did you want to show me?" I grumble. There are already a few older students in the Common Room, chatting near the fireplace. They completely ignore us as we make our way toward the portrait hole.

"It's so cool," Skyla insists as we start down the corridor and round a corner.

"Do you even know where you're going?" I ask as she turns another corner and drags me past talking paintings and portraits of witches and wizards.

"Yes!" she insists. It's really, really cool." She comes to a sudden stop right in front of a tapestry of some guy trying to teach trolls ballet. I look at her quizzically, and she glares at the blank wall across from the artwork.

"It was _right_ here," she says, pointing to the bare area. "There was a door. And behind the door was the most amazing place ever! It had grass, and a bright clear blue sky and a waterfall and a pond and…" she trails off and looks at me.

"You don't believe me do you?" she asks angrily.

No, actually I don't. But I'm not about to hurt her feelings. "I'm sure you believe you saw something," I tell her, something my mum says a lot when she doesn't believe me. "Are you sure this is the right place?"

"Yes!" she insists. "I remember this tapestry!"

I shrug. "It's a magical castle. Who knows what happened? Rooms probably move around as often as the people in the paintings. Don't worry about it," I say. "Let's go back to Gryffindor tower."

Dejected, Skyla follows me back to the portrait of the Fat Lady. "Password?" she asks.

"Godric," my friend says proudly. The portrait swings forward and we walk inside to find Jake and Sean playing chess at one of the tables. Only it isn't like the chess my grandpa likes to play against my mum. The pieces move wherever they're told to! I sit down beside Sean to watch.

Jake glances up at me and smiles. "Morning, Aria. Where were you?"

"Skyla wanted to show me something," I answer as Skyla sits down across from me.

"Cool," Sean answers. "Checkmate," he adds. He grins triumphantly as Jake's king – reluctantly it seems – drops his sword in defeat.

"Ha," Sean says, scooping his pieces up. "Told you that you couldn't beat me."

"Let's go eat," Jake says to change the subject. Sean jumps up, all thoughts of winning cast aside. Skyla and I exchange glances before following them.

At breakfast, Professor Potter walks around handing out schedules to all the Gryffindors. I notice how he has to stop and explain a few things to some sixth years about their schedules, but other than that nothing seems to go wrong. He gives Jake and Sean their schedules with a smile.

"I'm looking forward to seeing you two in class," he says sarcastically, and I smile slightly.

"Oh, I'm really excited too, Uncle Harry," Sean says cheekily. Professor Potter rolls his eyes.

"You remind me too much of your father," he replies.

"How's your mum, Jake?" he adds.

Jake shrugs somewhat uncomfortably. "I dunno. Haven't seen her since my tenth birthday," he mumbles.

"You turned _eleven_ in January!" Professor Potter exclaims with a frown.

"Yeah." Jake looks really awkward now.

The professor looks somewhat angry, but when his eyes rest on me, his gaze softens suddenly.

"Good morning, Miss Granger," he says with a soft smile.

"Morning," I answer.

"Your mum's name is…?" he trails off, waiting for me to answer.

"Hermione Granger."

"I thought so. Looking forward to having you in class. Good day," he says, handing me a schedule. He gives one to Skyla as well before moving down the table. Sean and Jake give me weird looks.

"What was that about?" they ask in unison.

"I don't know. He probably knows my mum if he's friends with your dad," I tell Sean.

"Probably," Jake agrees, going back to his breakfast. The rest of us follow suit.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

All through morning classes, I can't help but think of breakfast and why Professor Potter was so different toward me. In the middle of Charms I decide that I'm going to talk to him after Defense Against the Dark Arts this afternoon.

Jake jabs me in the side and points to his feather, which is hovering about two inches off of his desk. We're supposed to be levitating them. Rolling my eyes I swish my wand.

"Wingardium Leviosa," I say, and the feather practically jumps three feet into the air. Professor Flitwick on the other side of the room claps gleefully when he sees my work.

"Oh, Miss Granger! I can see you inherited your mother's knack for Charms! Very good! Ten points to Gryffindor!" he exclaims in his squeaky voice. Wait till I owl mum and tell her that her old Charms teacher is still here. She'll get a good laugh out of that. Of course then I remember that I'm mad at my mum for making me come here, and my heart sinks in disappointment.

Jake glares at me and lets his feather drop to the desktop again. "Show off," he mutters, and I feel bad for showing him up.

The bell rings right then, and I don't even have time to apologize for making him feel foolish. Everyone bolts toward the door and rushes to the Great Hall for lunch.

"Jake," I say, sitting down next to him. He looks over expectantly. "I'm sorry."

He shrug. "Doesn't matter. I shouldn't be so sensitive. I can't be best at _everything,_" he says with a wink. I smile at him and start to eat. Sean sits down across from us with Skyla.

"How's your girlfriend?" he asks Jake with a teasing grin. I feel myself blush.

"Merlin, look at that!" Sean exclaims, pointing to my red face. "That's what I call a Weasley-worthy blush!" I feel my face flush darker and Jake laughs.

"What's so funny?" I hear Professor Potter ask. I look up to see him standing behind me.

Jake just shakes his head wordlessly and continues to stuff his face. Sean points at my face.

"Look at her face!" he gasps. "It's as red as a tomato!"

I glare at him and blink desperately against the embarrassed tears that are threatening to spill. Skyla looks at me helplessly, and I feel a sudden wave of loneliness wash over me. At home my friends would have defended me.

"Knock it off you two," Professor Potter scolds, seeing my teary eyes. "Whatever you said isn't funny when it hurts someone's feelings."

Sean stops laughing and adopts a hostile glare that he directs toward me. I feel the tears press against the back of my eyes harder. It's only the first day and I've already lost my only friends.

"Thanks a lot," he hisses. Professor Potter looks down at me.

"Come with me," he says gently. Sean glares after me as I go, and Jake and Skyla avoid eye contact. As soon as I'm out of earshot I see Sean lean forward and say something. Jake nods and says something back. Skyla shrugs uncertainly and glances at me.

I feel betrayed. I want to go home. I hate it here. Professor Potter leads me up a couple staircases and down some corridors before coming to a stop outside a door. He pushes it open and gestures for me to go inside. It must be his office.

Inside is a desk with two comfortable-looking chairs in front of it. On the far side of the room is a fireplace and a couch. There are bookshelves lining two of the walls, and numerous pictures clutter the wall space that isn't covered with scarlet and gold hangings of the Gryffindor lion. Behind his desk is a closed door with a small 'Do Not Disturb' plaque nailed onto it. Maybe it's his bedroom or something.

"Are you alright?" he asks, seating himself behind his desk. I sit down in one of the chairs in front of him.

"I'm fine," I lie, refusing to look him in the eye. He gives me one of those 'Yeah-right-now-tell-me-the-truth' looks. "No," I mutter.

"What happened?"

"What are you, the school shrink?" I snap. He doesn't look fazed at all by my angry answer.

"Miss Granger – Aria. Please. I just want to make sure you're alright," he says, looking at me with a certain tenderness.

"Why should you care?" I mutter, not ready to be civil quite yet. I can just imagine my mum's outrage at my behavior.

He just looks at me and sighs. "I know those two. They can be a bit cruel at times. What happened?"

"Nothing. It's stupid," I say, looking down.

"It wasn't nothing. If it were, you wouldn't be in this office right now."

"Why do you care?" I ask again, glaring at him reproachfully.

"I was once good friends with your mother. I knew her very well in school. But I feel as if I let her down in some way. Maybe I'm trying to make it up to her by helping you out. I don't know. But what I do know is that you're in my office and our dear Mr. Weasley has obviously said something to upset you," he replied.

"What are you saying?" I ask, feeling apprehensive. All of a sudden I feel like there's something about Professor Potter that is very important.

"I'm saying I want to help you."

"It's nothing," I insist. "I overreacted. I should go. Defense starts in five minutes," I tell him. He glances at his watch and sighs.

"So it does. Well, we might as well go down there then. And if you ever need to talk … you know where to find me," he finishes. He stands and leads me out of the office.

We walk down toward the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom in silence, and once we reach the corridor, he stops and lets me walk ahead so people won't make fun of me for coming in with the teacher. I glance back at him and grace him with a small thankful smile before going in. Everyone looks up anxiously, thinking I'm the teacher, but when they see that it's only me, they relax again and start talking. I look around for Skyla, but she's already sitting between Jake and Sean, and I get the message that I'm not welcome.

"Aria! Over here!"

I look around to see Kelsey and Karen waving at me from near the front. I look once more at Skyla, and she gives me an apologetic look before turning to Sean again. With a shrug, I head over to sit beside Karen, knowing I've just lost my new best friend.**

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A/N**: Oh, how sad! Don't worry, it gets better, I promise! But as long as you're here, you should . . . press that little purplish gray button down there, you know? You know you want to! It's calling to you! Review! REVIEW! Okay, I'm done now. Hope you liked this chapter! Cheers! –Your Lovely Authoress


	5. Hermione's Plan

**Disclaimer**: If I really owned the wonderful world of Harry Potter, do you honestly think I'd be using my amazing creative talents to write fan fiction?

**A/N**: I've gotten a lot of really great reviews for this story so far! I'm so proud of you all! And I'm so sorry for the delay in updating! So I hope you like this chapter! Happy Reading!

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**Chapter Five: Hermione's Plan**

Aria's POV

The rest of the month passes uneventfully for me. Sean still refuses to talk to me and Jake ignores me. Skyla speaks to me very little, and only when she has to.

Karen and Kelsey have become my new best friends – only I don't really like them all that well. Karen is always going on about her older brother, who goes to Beaxbatons. Apparently he's the _best_ Quidditch player in the whole _country_. Kelsey on the other hand is always talking about other people and gossiping. _'Did you _hear_ what Adam said to Kate last night?!'_ I can hardly stand it.

I haven't owled mum for ages – not since the second week of school. I just told her that school was going well and I'd made friends – that was before I found out how annoying my "friends" are. Mum owled back the week after that telling me that everything was normal at home and that she hoped I was having a good time at school.

"Aria! Come look at this!" Kelsey squeals from across the dormitory, where Karen is painting her nails scarlet and gold in preparation for the first Quidditch match against Slytherin tomorrow – she's been trying to convince us to do the same all day. I don't really understand all the fuss over Quidditch, seeing as I've never seen it played – I hadn't even _heard_ of it before coming to Hogwarts! But Karen assures me that it's only the best sport _ever_ and if her brother were here, I'd be sure to love it too.

With an inward groan I get up off of my bed and cross to the window where Kelsey is pointing down toward the lake shore. Since it's Saturday, and it's a fair day, there are a lot of people down by the lake today. Everyone goes outside on nice days like this because we aren't sure how much longer it will be until we have snow.

But Kelsey isn't pointing to the Giant Squid, which is playing lazily in the shallows. She's pointing to two boys sitting under a tree near the shore. Professor Potter is standing over them. It's Sean and Jake. Ignoring the sad jolt in my stomach at the sight of them, I try to concentrate on the expression on Professor Potter's face. I can't tell if it's happy or angry.

"What do you think they're saying?" she whispers excitedly, like she's afraid they'd hear us if we talk too loud or something. I struggle not to roll my eyes at her.

"Who cares?" I say, starting back to my bed. But something catches my eye and I stop and look again. Not sure exactly what it was that had caught my attention, I squint and try to focus on the group. Professor Potter's expression certainly isn't happy at the moment. He has a piece of paper in his hand – bright white paper with a familiar letterhead – that's from Mum's personal stationary! But why would she be sending a letter to Professor Potter? And why wouldn't she just write it on parchment like she does whenever she writes letters to me? She only uses the letterhead stationary for work.

I peer closer, just to make sure it really is Mum's stationary. I'm sure lots of people have letterhead stationary. I squint, trying really hard to make out the figure on the paper, my nose pressed against the glass. Finally Karen gives an exasperated sigh and plunks her telescope down in front of me. Giving her a grateful smile, I peer through it and focus again on Professor Potter's letter.

Karen's telescope must be really strong, because I can clearly make out the letterhead – it _is_ Mum's! – and every single word on the paper. It starts off, _Dear Harry,_ but Professor Potter's hand is covering the beginning of the first part of all the sentences in the first paragraph. I skim over it, trying to make sense of what I can see. Nothing interesting there. I skip down to the second paragraph. I catch the words _Aria's father_ and my heart skips a beat. Unsure if I'd read it right or not, I look again, trying to see if I can read the rest of the sentence. The line doesn't make much sense. It reads: _…completely shocked to find out…_ here her handwriting is smudged – she must've folded it before the ink was dry, so I miss two or three words, but it continues to say, _Aria's father, and_ and then the sentence is continued under Professor Potter's hand.

"What is so interesting about Professor Potter talking to Sean and Jake?" Karen asks in an annoyed tone from her bed. She's done with the scarlet nail polish and has moved on to the gold, painting little dots or stripes depending on which finger it was.

"Karen!" Kelsey scolds. "This is _prime_ blackmail! We could accuse them of being teacher's pets. He's not yelling at them! But he doesn't look very happy. I wish I knew what they were talking about," she says wistfully.

"Me too," I murmur, finally putting the telescope down. Although I want to know for a far more important reason than something so juvenile as accusing a couple of guys of being teacher's pets. I figure there's no point in watching anymore though – I've never learned how to read lips, and the rest of the letter doesn't make sense. I go back to my bed and sit down slowly, still thinking over what it said. _…completely shocked to find out…Aria's father…_ What could those other two words be? Could it be 'that you're'? That would make sense! But that would mean… _Stop it!_ I scold myself. I hate that I'm getting hopeful. Professor Potter is _not_ my father!

_But remember how he talked about being 'good friends with' Mum and how he felt 'he'd 'let her down in some way'? And how he was 'trying to make it up to her' by helping me out? It makes _perfect_ sense!_

No it doesn't! It doesn't make sense at all! Professor Potter _is not_ my father! I refuse to believe it! But there _was _that odd feeling I'd had that day. The feeling that maybe there was something really important about him that I needed to know. Feeling frustrated, I grab a piece of parchment and my quill. Digging around for some ink in my trunk, I hit my hand against something hard and kind of sharp.

"Ow!" I squeal, jerking my hand out of the trunk. I suck on my finger as it throbs in pain. Karen and Kelsey look over curiously. "I hit my hand on something sharp in there!" I say. Cautiously I peer into the trunk and carefully move aside crumpled papers and wrinkled Muggle clothes. At the bottom of my trunk is a wooden box – which explains why it hurt so much when I hit it. I must have smacked the corner.

Curious, I lift it out – it's surprisingly light. I look at in confusion. It's unmarked except for a leather strap attached to one side that says "Pull Me" on it. Hesitantly I pull on the strap and the side of the box pulls open. I look inside to see a square-shaped package wrapped simply with light blue wrapping paper and a silver bow. I take it out and set the wooden box aside.

"What is it?" Kelsey asks curiously. I shrug.

"Open it!" Karen commands impatiently. Giving her a warning glance – her bossiness is really getting on my nerves – I carefully untie the bow and set it aside.

"Oh Merlin," Karen says, rolling her eyes at my sluggishness. I glare at her and slowly lift the end of the flap of paper, trying not to tear the pretty wrapping. Inside the paper is a purple jewelry box with a note attached to it.

"Please read it!" Kelsey begs from the foot of Karen's bed. I resist the urge to turn around and ignore them.

"Let her read it to herself first!" Karen snaps. Kelsey opens her mouth to retort, but I nod gratefully at Karen, so she refrains from whatever she was about to say.

_Dearest Aria,_

_I feel awful about our fight. Please accept this late birthday gift as my sincerest, most heart-felt apologies. I love you more than you'll ever know, and I hate forcing you to do anything, but your education always comes first. Please don't be angry with me. I hate it when we fight. As for the present itself, it's magically sealed, so it won't open until you're ready to see what's inside, so don't try to pry it open with anything, because you'll probably just scrape the metal up and hurt yourself more than the gift itself. I should go now. I have to get your birthday breakfast ready. I hope you're having a wonderful time at school and by the time you find this, I hope we aren't angry with each other anymore. Love you to the moon and back again._

_-Mum_

Smiling, I gently pry the lid of the box off. Inside is a beautiful, slender, gold heart-shaped locket with musical notes on it. I smile a bit more at the meaning of the picture. My name – Aria – means melody. Actually, if you want to be all technical about it, and aria _is_ a melody, but it's not like that's important. Turning it over, I read the inscription on the back, but the words surprise me. It's not inscribed to me. It's inscribed to my mum.

_I will _always_ love you, no matter how our lives turn out. I hope you'll always feel the same. Love._ The inscription isn't signed, and it's not specifically directed toward Mum, but I know that Hermione Granger didn't write it – she would have probably said something about loving me more than I'll ever know – she says that a lot. I wonder if my father gave it to her. Turning it over in my hands, I see that the picture on the front isn't just the musical notes as I'd first thought. The notes are the most noticeable, but underneath them is a smaller picture of two swans with their faces touching so their necks form a heart. They're floating on a pond full of heart-shaped lily-pads.

"Wow that's pretty," Kelsey whispers, and for the first time I notice her standing over my shoulder. I look up at her and smile.

"It's from my mum," I tell her, and she nods. I see her eyes dart over the note still attached to the lid of the box, but I don't mind. I try to pry the locket open even though the note said not to. I have to try, don't I? Like Mum said, the locket is sealed tight – obviously by magic. I wonder how long it will be until I'm "ready to see it". I coil the chain of the locket around my fingers and sit staring at it.

"Won't it open?" Karen asks. I shake my head.

"Mum says it's magically sealed," I tell her.

"Well that's stupid! What's the use of a locket if it doesn't open?" she says rudely. I glare at her. That's the last straw! I'd told them how my mum and I had fought about coming to Hogwarts, and Karen had said that it was stupid to want to stay at Muggle school. I'd told them how miserable I was that Skyla, Sean, and Jake would hardly talk to me, and she'd told me to get over it. I was tired of her being so mean!

"You know what's stupid?" I snap, and I see Kelsey look at me nervously. She slowly backs away and grabs her homework from her bedside table and engrosses herself in Transfiguration. "What's stupid is that you make a lousy friend!" And with that lovely announcement, I jump up and storm out of the room, slamming the door behind me.

I walk through the Common Room, and the older students ignore me. They don't care about little first years' arguments. They're too busy getting psyched up about tomorrow's Quidditch match. Not sure of what to do, I head out the portrait hole and wander down the corridors aimlessly.

I'm somewhere on the fifth floor – or maybe the fourth – when I hear footsteps and voices. I freeze, unsure of what to do. If they're Slytherins, I'll want to get out of there – and fast. I strain to hear who they are.

"Professor Potter is nuts! He actually wants me to ask her that! Why doesn't _he_ do it?"

It's Sean's voice. Well, at least I'm not in danger of being hexed into next week. But I still don't want to be found in the middle of a corridor all alone. I'm almost half-way to a tapestry that hides the entrance of a secret passageway that I found last week when Sean and Jake come around the corner, Sean still venting about whatever Professor Potter wanted him to do.

Jake's the first one to see me, and he seems to curse under his breath. Sean looks up to see what he's swearing at, and he sees me. He stops short and Jake almost runs into him. I stop, my hand itching to reach out and pull the tapestry aside.

"Hi," Sean says, surprising me. His voice isn't cold or hostile. It's simply an almost-friendly greeting.

"Hi," I reply, still in shock. He looks at me without expression for a few seconds, his head cocked like he's studying me. I stare back, not really knowing what else to do. Finally he sighs.

"I'm sorry," he says. "I was a jerk."

"Yeah you were," Jake mutters under his breath, and I feel a smile tugging at the corners of my lips. Sean casts a glare over his shoulder, but there's a glint of teasing in his eyes.

"It's okay," I say.

"It's not," he insists. "It was stupid." He looks at me for another few seconds before speaking again. "So…" he says hesitantly. "How's lunch sound?"

I can't help but grin. He takes that as a good sign and leads the way toward the Great Hall. I walk between Jake and Sean, finally feeling like I belong again. I look down at my hand and realize the locket is still entangled in my fingers.

"What's that?" Jake asks, following my gaze.

"It's from my mum," I say. "It's magically sealed, and the note Mum sent says it won't open until I'm "ready to see what's inside". Whatever that means," I tell him, shrugging. He holds out his hand and I set the locket gently in his palm. He turns it over and over, briefly reading the inscription on the back and studying the picture on the front. He reads the inscription again and a slight frown creases his forehead, but the look is gone in a split second.

We sit down together at the Gryffindor table and I notice Professor Potter wink at me from the Head Table. I smile back quickly before turning back to the boys. Jake still has the locket, and now he's tapping it with his wand curiously. I highly doubt he'll be able to open it. We're only first years. I don't think anyone but my mum would be able to open it – she's the one who sealed it.

"Just forget it," Sean says, rolling his eyes. He grabs the locket from Jake's hands and slips it around my neck, clasping it for me and letting it drop against the back of my neck.

"Thanks," I say, a bit surprised. He seems to be going out of his way to be nice to me today. I smile at him and he shrugs like it was no big deal. But I see the relieved look in his eyes – he was thinking I'd yell at him for being rude to Jake. I look back and forth between the two of them and I feel happy. Happier than I've been all month. And _really _happy that I don't have to hang around Kelsey and Karen anymore!

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Hermione's POV – _The Night Before_

It's the end of October, and I haven't seen Ron since that first meeting back in September. We've written to each other a few times, but his letters are short and business-like. I wish he'd come to visit again. I think he's angry at me, but I don't know why. When he came over last month he seemed fine to me. A little shocked maybe. And yes, a bit upset, but why would he hold it against me for this long? It occurs to me that he'll probably stay angry at me until he gets to meet Aria, but how am I supposed to tell an eleven-year-old that I've been corresponding with her previously non-existent father? It's not that easy! What am I supposed to say? "Hey, sweetie, guess what? For the last two months I've been talking to the father I told you to never ask about. Yeah, he's really great and he wants to meet you! Isn't that great?"

Yeah, I don't think so. First of all, she'd be furious, and then she'd start bugging me about when she can meet him. After she meets him, she'll be asking every day when she can see him again… What if she likes him better than she likes me? _Stop it,_ I tell myself. _She _loves_ you! You _raised_ her!_ And then it occurs to me again that she'll probably like him better because he's never yelled at her or punished her.

With a sigh, I wonder how I can possibly arrange for Aria to meet Ron. And then I remember that Aria had been arguing with me about why she couldn't be friends with that Jake kid just because he was with the Weasleys. Maybe she's friends with Ron's son! And then, like usual, just when I think I have a good thing going for me, I think about how weird it would be to find out your best friend is actually your step-brother. Well, I don't really know what Sean would be to her. He's not her half-brother, and since Ron adopted him, he's not exactly her step either, for that same reason. Well, whatever he is, they're related.

Slowly a half-formed idea creeps into my mind. Harry works at the school – Aria told me about 'Professor Potter' and well, how many Potters are there that could possibly be a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher? Well, Harry knows Sean and Jake and he obviously knows Ron… He knows Aria too…

I head into the den and sit down. Unable to find any parchment handy, I take out my letterhead stationary. There's a picture of an owl in mid-flight on it, its wings spread wide and its talons extended like it is getting ready to either attack something or land. Aria always told me it was a weird picture when she was younger – she'll probably understand it now.

Taking out my quill and some ink, I start a letter to Harry, feeling slightly apprehensive. After all, it's only been twelve years!

_Dear Harry,_

_I cannot believe how fast time has flown. Here I am, twelve years older (I feel really old when I say that), sitting in my own house, writing at my own desk (it's the same desk I had when I was sixteen, so I don't know why that's important), writing to you. And I feel awful knowing I caused you and everyone else worry. I'm sure Ron's told you that we've been writing each other lately, and if not, well, I'm telling you now. I have yet to meet his family, and he hasn't met Aria yet, which is actually why I am writing you._

_I'm sure you noticed (probably the first night at the Sorting Ceremony) that Aria bears my last name. I don't know what Ron's told you or if you've even talked to him lately, but if you haven't spoken to him, I might as well explain all right now. Aria has the surname of Granger because I'm not married – nor have I ever been. In fact, I'm starting to wonder if I ever will be. Haha. Anyway, Aria's last name has very little to do with what I'm telling you. You see, Ron visited my place early in September, because he wanted to find out why I ran away. Well, he was completely shocked to find out that he was Aria's father. _

_Yeah, that's why I left. I was young and stupid and I had no idea what to do when I found out I was pregnant. So I ran away to my parents' house and by the time I realized my mistake, it was too late – Aria was walking and talking, and knew nothing about the man she was supposed to call Daddy. I figured he'd probably forgotten about me already anyway, so I just kept living my life._

_I work at St. Mungo's now and I'm very happy to see that none of you have been in there lately – not because I don't want to see you, but St. Mungo's isn't exactly a socializing place. I wouldn't want to see any of you in there. Better you stay away. ___

_So the real reason I'm writing you is actually because I have a favor to ask you. See, I think Ron is angry with me because we've been corresponding for awhile and I've never once mentioned anything about him actually meeting Aria. I think he really wants to see her. So I was kind of wondering if you'd do me a huge favor and kind of speed the process up. I'm not sure if this will work or not, so if it doesn't, don't worry. I'll figure it out._

_First of all, it won't work if Aria isn't friends with Sean (that's Ron's son's name, right?) or that Jake Parks boy because they are her only link to Ron – besides you of course, but I'm not sure you count to her considering you're her teacher. If she isn't friends with them, then don't even bother reading the rest of this letter. But if she is, read on. Okay, so if they're friends, I was wondering if you could somehow convince Sean (it is Sean right?) to ask Aria if she'd like to spend Christmas at his house (as long as it's okay with Keira of course), but I don't want him to tell his parents who she is just yet. I just want him to say she's a friend. Have him invite another friend too if you have to, so it won't seem as suspicious. As long as you can do that, I think I can figure out the rest. If Keira says Aria can go to their house for Christmas, but needs to know if it's alright with her mother (that'd be me), tell Aria that you've spoken to me and it's just fine. I think the rest will fall into place after that._

_If this is too hard, don't worry. I'll figure out a less conniving way of getting Ron to meet his daughter. Please let me know if it doesn't work (write me back even if it does, because I miss you!)._

_With love,_

_Hermione_

_P.S. DON'T YOU DARE TELL RON OR I'LL SKIN YOU ALIVE!!!_

Satisfied, I put the only slightly threatening letter in an envelope and go to the window. My owl, Chawncey is sitting in the tree outside. I call him to me, making sure none of our neighbors are watching.

"Take it to Hogwarts. _Professor_ Harry Potter," I say, feeling strange calling my friend 'Professor'. Chawncey hoots softly and swoops away, disappearing into the night sky within minutes.

I lean on the window sill and let the cool night breeze blow on my face. It feels good in comparison to the slightly-stuffy house. I take a deep breath of the cool early-autumn air, the smell of dry leaves blowing in the wind. With a sigh that's half lonely, half nervous, I lean back, shut the window, and head to bed.

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**A/N**: Hope you liked this one! Please review! It helps me stay positive! Cheers! 


	6. Christmas Plans

**Disclaimer**: If you don't get it by now, you never will. I DON'T OWN HARRY POTTER, OKAY? Stop rubbing it in!

**A/N**: Hope you enjoy this chapter! It's all freshly edited for you! Happy Reading!

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**Chapter Six: Christmas Plans**

Hermione's POV

Two days after sending off that letter to Harry, I get a letter from Aria. It's brought by her owl sometime in the evening just after I'm finishing my lonely supper of leftovers. The owl taps impatiently on the kitchen window and I hurry to let him in. He swoops in and drops the letter on the counter before landing on the back of one of the chairs. I quickly draw the curtains in case any of my neighbors are watching.

"Hey there, Star," I greet the almost all-white owl. He's some weird cross-breed between a snowy and a great-horned owl, so he's kind of odd-looking, but pretty. He's pretty much all-white, but there's a strange brownish star-shaped marking right in the center of his chest. Aria fell in love with him the moment she saw him.

The owl looks at me with his calm yellow eyes. He's much quieter than Chawncey, who lets you know if he's not happy. Star simply sits there and waits.

I pick up the letter. It simply says _Mum_ on it, but the loopy handwriting in purple ink states all too clearly who it's from – then again, who else would be writing to me with _Mum_ written on the envelope?

I open it slightly hesitantly – Aria hasn't written to me in a long time.

_Dear Mum,_

_I found the locket. _(Good, I was wondering when she would.) _It's beautiful. I was kind of wondering if Dad gave it to you a long time ago, because the inscription on the back isn't really directed to me. _(Well, I always knew she wasn't ignorant.) _That's something else I was wondering. About Dad I mean. How come you never talk about him? I think Professor Potter knows who he is, but I won't ask him if you don't want me to. _

_Mum, why can't I know about Dad? Is he some awful person or something? _(Oh great, she wants to know about Ron. What am I going to do?)_ I know you don't like talking about him, but I think I deserve to know. My whole life you've been saying things like 'When you're older' or 'Maybe later' but that's getting old. _(Now she's talking back! What happened to my precious little girl?) _Look, I have to go – Jake, Sean, Skyla and I are going to the Quidditch game, and Sean wants good seats. _(Who's Skyla?) _Just so you know, I'm not mad at you anymore – I love Hogwarts, even though I still miss you and Meghan and Jess. I'm going to go now._

_Love,_

_Aria_

With a sigh I head to my den. Star's eyes follow me until I'm leaving the doorway. Then with a soft hoot he swoops after me, beating me to the den. He settles onto the perch in the corner and I draw the curtains again.

I sit down at the desk and take out a piece of stationary – I keep forgetting to drop by Diagon Alley to buy more parchment – and my quill.

_Dear Aria,_

_I know you want to know about your dad. And no, he's not a horrible person. I just … I have this strange fear of him becoming involved in our lives. It has nothing to do with what kind of person he is though. It's difficult to explain, and I can't say you'll understand when you're older because I hope you never have to understand that. I loved your father very much. I want you to know that. He was one of my closest friends at school, and even though we fought a lot, we were always there for each other. I'm not going to go into great detail about him, because I want us to be able to talk face-to-face about him._

_I'll make you a promise okay? When you come home for summer break, I'll tell you anything you want to know about him. But no arguing about it. I'm not moving the deadline any closer. First day of summer break, you and I will sit down and talk about him, alright? I promise. And I really don't want you to talk to Professor Potter about him (although I must say, I know him better as Harry – the term professor doesn't seem to suit him). Anyway, I hope you won the Quidditch game – I remember your father always loved Quidditch. I never played it (couldn't ride a broom to save my life), but it's interesting to watch nonetheless. I should go now – Star is starting to look anxious to return to you, and I can't say I blame him. Hogwarts is a much better home for an owl than a Muggle suburb. I'll hear from you soon, I hope._

_Love always,_

_Mum_

_P.S. I'm glad you like the locket. Yes, your father gave it to me once for Christmas, and I thought you'd like to have a little something of his. Just remember that it won't open until you're ready to see what's inside – hopefully that will be soon, because I know you're dying to know. When it does open, I hope you love it as much as I did. And I hope you'll cherish it as much as I did when I was younger. I love you, Aria. Never forget that._

I reread the letter quickly, wondering briefly if I should just rewrite the whole thing. But Aria should know a little about her dad. She's only been asking about him since she figured out that most little girls had daddies and she didn't and wanted to know why. She deserves this much. I feel growing apprehension already about the upcoming talk with her this summer. She's going to ask everything about him there is to ask. And I'm going to have to answer. No more dodging out of it. No more scolding her. I'm going to have to be open and honest. Oh, Merlin I suck at being open and honest.

The phone rings from the kitchen, startling me. Quickly I give the letter to Star and she swoops through the curtains with hardly a ripple. I hurry to the kitchen to grab the phone before whoever is calling decides to hang up. Just as the fourth ring sounds I grab the receiver.

"Hello?"

"Erm … Hermione?"

"Yes…"

"It's Ron."

My heart skips a beat. "Oh." I search frantically for something to say. "Hi." Wow, Hermione. _That_ was brilliant.

"Hi."

I can't help myself. "So you finally learned to use a telephone huh?" I hear him chuckle nervously and feel my heart sinking. That was a stupid thing to say.

"Yeah… Awhile ago actually."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

I feel myself growing more and more nervous as the awkward conversation progresses. "So … is there a particular reason you're calling or…?" I trailed off, not really sure what the 'or' meant.

"Oh, yeah. Well, I was actually going to ask you something. But if you don't want to I'll understand. I mean, I wouldn't blame you if you said no. After all, I've kind of been a jerk the last few weeks. And I feel bad about it. But I'll still understand if you say no. You have every right to. In fact, maybe I shouldn't have called. You know what, I'll just –"

I cut him off before he can embarrass himself further. "Ron," I say gently.

"Yeah?"

"You haven't even asked me yet," I remind him.

"Right," he answers, and I can tell he's embarrassed.

"So?"

"Well, like I was saying, I've kind of been a jerk the last few weeks. I was mad at you because you didn't really seem to want me to be part of Aria's life, but now I realize I never even asked you, so I really had no right to be angry. Which is why I'm calling. I want to meet her," he says in a rush, sounding slightly apprehensive.

I knew it was coming, but I still feel like the wind's been knocked out of me when he finally says it. "Ron…" I don't know what else to say.

"I get it," he says sadly. "I'm sorry I bothered you."

"Wait!" I say, not willing to let him go without even a word of good-bye. "It's not that I don't want you to meet her. I just … I need some time to think about it okay? Can we talk again after Christmas maybe? Work is really busy right now, and I have a lot to do. And I know that Christmas is a long ways off, but please, just be patient," I say in a rush. I really don't have all that much to do for work, but I can't have her meet him before Christmas! Not with the surprise I have in mind!

"After Christmas?" he asks.

"After Christmas," I answer. I hear him sigh, but he doesn't argue.

"Okay." I feel bad at the obvious sadness in his voice, but the surprise I have lined up for both of them is just so great! I can't ruin that!

"How is everything?" I ask, just trying to keep him on the phone. I hate to admit it, but I've missed him over the last few weeks.

"Oh, you know… pretty boring. Abby is trying to get Keira to let me take her for a fly on my broom, but she's not really buying it. And Henry learned a new word last week…"

"Oh yeah?" I ask, knowing it probably isn't a good word from the tone in his voice.

"Yeah … prat. He heard me talking about this bloke who works with me – a real annoying guy. Now he goes around saying 'Prat! Prat!' to everyone he sees. It would be a lot funnier if Keira didn't give me this death-wish glare every time he says it," he says, and I can hear the grin in his voice. I smile, although it's not a very good thing for a little boy to go around calling everyone a prat, even if it's not that bad of a word.

"Well, I'm sure it'll grow old soon enough. He'll learn a new word, and 'prat' will be out the window. I remember when Aria learned how to say ass – she was about a year and a half –" I pause so Ron can finish his choking laughter on the other end of the phone. "– and my friend Eva was over for lunch, and we were talking about this guy in my ward who has been trying to get me to invite him over for dinner since I started working at St. Mungo's as an intern.

"Eva was feeding her, and I was saying how annoying he was, and she said 'Yeah, he's an ass.' I just about killed her when Aria threw her hands up in the air and declared 'Ass!' to the whole world – the window was open too, so I think out neighbors heard her. Nosy, Muggle neighbors they are too."

By now, Ron is laughing hysterically on the other end of our conversation. "I can just imagine that," he gasps. "Oh, I wish I'd been able to see that," he says weakly. I feel a sudden strong pang of guilt – raw, painful, heart-wrenching guilt. He gets really quiet almost instantly as the impact of his words sinks into both of us.

"I-I didn't mean…" he trails off awkwardly. Now we're right back at square one.

"I know," I murmur, feeling very uncomfortable.

"I shouldn't have said…"

"It's okay."

"Look, I should go," he says, and I can hear his daughter calling for him on the other end, telling him that the baby is smelly. I have to smile at that.

"We'll talk later," I tell him – it isn't a question. We _are_ going to talk later. Even if I have to show up at his house and break the door down – of course, then I remember I don't know where he lives.

"Yeah," he says, sounding a little sad. "Later. Good-bye, Hermione."

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Ron's POV

I hang up the phone and head into the living room where Ginny is supposed to be watching Henry and Abby. She isn't doing a very good job, seeing as she's fast asleep in the armchair. Henry is sitting in the middle of the floor playing with some wooden blocks that Keira's mum got him for his birthday.

"Are you stinky?" I ask him, squatting down beside him. He looks up at me with those big brown eyes of his and giggles. I grab him and swing him around. "Let's go get you some clean pants," I say, swinging him over my shoulder. He laughs the whole way down the hall to his bedroom, but when I lay him down on the changing table – which he's almost too big for – he glares at me, like I've played some awful trick on him.

Abby sticks her head around the door as I'm changing him, waiting until I'm done to come in. She thinks diaper changing is disgusting. Once I'm done and Henry has his little jeans back on, she comes in and perches on the rocking chair that used to sit in her room until Henry was born.

"Mummy said she doesn't like it that you talk to that lady," she says carefully, and I feel an instant surge of anger. What right does Keira have to tell our four-year-old daughter what is going on in our personal lives? She's too young to understand this.

"Mummy is a little confused and sad at the moment. She knows that Hermione and I are just friends."

"But Mummy doesn't like it when you talk to her," Abby insists.

"Well, that's between me and Mummy okay? So don't you worry about it," I assure her, kissing her forehead. She smiles slightly.

"Okay," she murmurs.

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Aria's POV

"I wanna ask you something," Sean whispers, sliding into a seat next to me in the library. I look over at him expectantly, and sort of surprised. He never sets foot in the library if he can help it.

It's been about a month since he apologized, and everything has been running smoothly. I've learned not to take offense at his jokes, and he doesn't make quite as many potentially cruel remarks.

"What are you doing for Christmas?"

"Going home," I answer automatically. I promised my mum that I'd go home to see her – I don't intend to break that promise.

"Do you wanna come to my house for Christmas instead? Professor Potter – he's really good friends with my dad, you know – said that my dad wants me to invite a couple of friends home. Your mum could come too. I'm sure Dad wouldn't mind. He loves it when we have a lot of people for Christmas," he says. I shrug kind of uncomfortably.

"I dunno if Mum would want to," I say hesitantly. I would _love_ to go to their house for Christmas, but every time I think about Sean's dad, the image of Mum's face from that day in Diagon Alley jumps into my head. That look of pure terror on her face when she saw him.

"Professor Potter said he's already talked to your mum," Sean replies instantly. That's right. I remember now how Professor Potter and Mum are friends. _Maybe they're more than friends…_

No! I've managed to keep those types of thoughts at bay for the last couple of weeks, but every so often a stray one sneaks in, whispering that possibility in my ear. I hate thinking like this. It's kind of disturbing.

"Oh. Well, I guess that sounds like fun," I say. It's kind of odd that this agreement all went on behind my back, but I don't really think twice about it. It doesn't matter.

"That's great!" He grins and jumps up. "I'm going to ask Skyla too – I figure you'd rather not spend the whole break with just me and Jake," he says, smiling cockily. I can't help but think that I really wouldn't mind that much – at least not spending time with Jake…

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The next few weeks go by really fast. Everyone is excited for Christmas, and on the eve of our departure, the noise in the Great Hall has reached a new level. All the students going home are saying good-bye to friends who are also leaving, or are staying here at Hogwarts. Everyone is talking excitedly about their holiday plans.

"I can't wait – you're going to love my mum," Sean says, stuffing his face with mashed potatoes and some sort of meat at the same time. "Her cooking is amazing – some of it is even better than Hogwarts'," he brags. Over the last few months I've managed to learn how to understand him and Jake when they talk with their mouths full.

So "Yu, ih twa. Hih u's ookih ih wasm" coming from Jake sounds just like "Yeah, it's true. His mum's cooking is awesome."

"I'm sure it is," I reply, picking at my food. I'm not really hungry. All I can think about is how Mum is going to react to spending Christmas with Professor Potter. Of course, I have no proof that my Defense teacher is actually my father – but there's just this gut feeling I have that there's something about him that he's not letting on about.

"Uh! Ih see ayin' at oo ie ain?" Jake asks, looking hopeful.

"What pie?" Sean asks, seeing as his mouth is actually empty for once.

"Oo oh!"

"No, I don't know," Sean replies patiently. "Which pie?"

"Ah aiey un at ases oo!"

"The cherry one that tastes good?" Sean asks, just to be sure. Jake nods vigorously, swallowing as he does so.

"Yeah, I think so," Sean says. "But she might make apple this year – she's been talking about that. Or maybe peach."

"I _love_ peach pie," I cut in, my mouth just watering at the thought of it. Sean looks at me weird.

"Yuck. I _hate_ peach pie. The only one who actually likes it in my family is my dad – that's the only reason Mum makes it, and only once or twice a year."

I shrug. So what if they don't like peach pie? I do.

"Well, I guess Henry likes it a little bit," Sean continues thoughtfully. "But he'll only eat the crust."

"Eres ufin ong ih ea ie," Jake says defensively.

"I'm glad you think so," Sean says, making a face. "But I hate it."

Skyla rolls her eyes at our bickering. "I swear the way you three argue it's like you're all related," she says with a frown. I feel a strange sensation in my stomach when she says that, but I ignore it.

All of a sudden the Hall grows quiet, and we all look up toward the Head Table automatically. McGonagall is smiling at us all – a rare occurrence I've found.

"I hope you've all had a wonderful first term," she says in that unnaturally soft voice for such a sharp-looking woman. "And I hope that all of you – whether you're staying here at Hogwarts, or going home – have a wonderful holiday. That's all I wanted to say. Happy Christmas everyone!"

We all push and shove our way back to Gryffindor tower, but no one wants to go to their dormitory just yet. Sean, Jake, Skyla, and I settle onto a couch a ways from the fire, seeing as all the good chairs are taken.

I sit on the floor, not feeling like sitting between Skyla and Sean and having to look back and forth when they talk. Sean joins me a few seconds later.

"We have to ride the Knight Bus to my grandma's house," Sean tells us. "We're staying there one night and then going to our house the next day."

"You guys have fun. I get to go to my great uncle's house and sit around playing cards," Skyla says, using a voice of fake excitement. Poor Skyla had to turn down Sean's offer of spending Christmas with us. She stretches out on the now nearly deserted couch, plopping her feet unceremoniously in Jake's lap. He glares at her and shoves her feet away, but she just puts them back again, so he sighs in resignation.

"We should get to bed," I say, glancing at the clock. Sean and Jake shrug, and Skyla stands.

"Okay. See you two in the morning," she says, leading the way upstairs.

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The next morning is a horrible rush as everyone searches the dormitory for last-minute things they need for break. I stick my head under the bed just to make sure I have everything, and lucky I did because my locket fell under there last night. I grab it and fasten it around my neck before looking in the wardrobe to make sure I didn't forget any clothes or books that might be stored in there for who-knows-what reason.

I find a scarf that I never wear and my Potions book, which is good, because I have a lot of homework for break. I manage to stuff the book in my trunk without everything falling out again.

"Ready?" Skyla asks. I look up. She's walking with us to the entrance of Hogwarts where the Knight Bus is picking us up because she's taking the train back to London.

"Yep, let's go," I say, latching my trunk. We drag our stuff down the stairs with some difficulty. Sean and Jake are standing at the bottom waiting for us.

"Hey you!" some older, sixth or seventh year girl calls. We all look up to see what she wants. "One of you boys, step on that first stair for me, okay?" she says. Sean looks at her weird, but starts forward. He steps up onto the first stair and suddenly there's this loud wail and the whole staircase turns into a giant stone slide. The girl grins and slides her trunk down the steps. The stairs return as the trunk hits the bottom, and she casually walks down.

"Thanks," she says, grabbing her trunk and leaving. Sean and Jake watch her leave with open mouths.

"What the…?" Jake trails off, a confused look on his face. Skyla and I roll our eyes at each other and lead the way through the common room, the boys following behind with their mouths still slightly open.

We head out onto the grounds and get into one of the horseless carriages that will take us to the gates where the Knight Bus is supposed to arrive. The carriages smell slightly moldy, and it's obvious they've been around for years.

When we arrive at the gates, there is no bus. I look at Skyla, and she looks at me, and we shrug. Maybe they forgot us? But Sean just sticks out his right hand and then pulls back really quick, dragging Skyla and me along with him. There's a loud bang and a bright purple triple-decker bus jerks to a stop in front of us. From inside I can hear chairs and people and their belongings sliding forward sharply as the bus halts.

"Welcome to the Knight Bus!" a greasy-haired man who looks to be a bit older than my mum says, stepping out into the doorway of the bus. "I'm Stan Shunpike and I'll be your conductor for this ride. C'mon now, get on, get on! We have other places to go! C'mon!"

We say farewell to Skyla and get on, and he leads us up to the second deck. Our trunks are stored off to the side and we settle into chairs near the windows. As soon as we're seated, Stan Shunpike goes back to the lower level and a second later there's another loud bang. We all jerk backwards as the bus jumps forward, and I find myself tumbling out of my backwards-facing seat right onto Jake, who falls out of his chair. We both go tumbling to the floor and for the second time this year, I feel my elbow sink into his gut. He wheezes and groans.

"I'm sorry," I say, rolling off of him. He sits up and rubs his stomach.

"Do you always have to do that?" he groans, attempting to stand on the speeding bus. He reaches down to pull me up and I feel a strong sense of déjà vu. Gee, I can't think of why that would be…

I glare at Sean, who is trying to cover up his laughter, and not succeeding very well. I sit back and turn toward the window so they won't see my red face. I hate that I blush – Mum _never_ blushes!

The rest of the ride is spent mostly talking about how horrible all of our teachers are for assigning us homework over Christmas break. Finally the bus jerks to a halt outside one of the strangest looking houses I've ever seen. It looks as though someone just went and stuck a bunch of different parts of a bunch of different houses together. Outside of it is a dilapidated old sign that reads simply 'The Burrow'.

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**A/N**: There you go! Just a cool little "historical" (not really) note. There was actually a time in where Skyla was heading off to the Burrow with Jake, Sean, and Aria, but half-way through my Christmas chapters I forgot about her so instead of editing her _into_ three or so chapters, I simply edited her out of two. So poor Skyla _was_ going to get to spend Christmas with her friends, but now she has to go stay with her stingy old great uncle instead. Poor thing. _AuthoressMegz grins rather evilly at the expense of poor Skyla._


	7. Harry's House

**Disclaimer**: Never have, never will. But I can pretend, right?

**A/N**: Here it is, another chapter from the Wonderful World of Fanfiction! Enjoy, and try not trample the presents.

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**Chapter Seven: Harry's House**

Aria's POV

Jake and Sean all but drag me to the front door with these huge, eager grins on their faces. It's quite scary actually. They knock ferociously on the door for about half a minute before bursting in.

"Grandma!"

"Mrs. Weasley!"

They drag me into the kitchen, where Mrs. Weasley is standing at the counter, overseeing a spatula that is magically putting some sugar cookies onto a cooling rack.

"I thought that was you," she says with a pleasant smile on her face. She looks up, and her smile disappears when she sees me. I feel my face turn red as I remember how rude my mother was to her that day in Diagon Alley.

"Hello," she says politely. "I don't believe we've properly met," she adds.

"... You remember Aria," Jake says kind of awkwardly. I look at her, half expecting her to lecture me on manners. But she simply smiles at me sort of sadly.

"Of course I do," she murmurs. And then she does something that really surprises me. She comes forward and hugs me. "You're welcome here _any_ time," she whispers in my ear before letting go.

She pulls away, and before she turns back to her cookies, I spot a glimmer of tears in her eyes. I wonder why. "Why don't you boys show Aria to the room where she'll be staying tonight? It's Ginny's old room," she says, not looking at us. "When you're all settled, you can come back down for cookies," she adds.

Sean and Jake lead me out of the kitchen, both of them casting curious looks at me as we go up a squeaky old staircase. We pass numerous closed doors before finally coming to a halt on one of the many landings.

"Here we are," Sean says, pushing open the door. Inside the small room is a single dresser, a night stand, and two single beds that look like there was absolutely no way they could have gotten in there without magic. I wonder why there are two beds. Maybe Mrs. Weasley was expecting Skyla too, but once she got word that she wasn't coming, she didn't really feel like having to force the secon bed out again.

"Sorry it's so small," Sean says, looking embarrassed.

I shrug. "I've lived in smaller," I say, remembering how it was before Mum and I had gotten our house. We'd been so terribly poor before she'd gotten her job at St. Mungo's, and we'd lived in a tiny flat with one bedroom, a closet-like bathroom, and a stove, a sink, and a fridge. I'd been really little – only a year or so old, but I remember how miserable we were for those few months. Sean nods and he and Jake walk off.

I put my trunk up on the spare bed and look around. The room is small but its cozy. It's alright I guess.

I head back into the kitchen. Mrs. Weasley is putting the cookies on little plates. There is already a big platter full of them in the center of the table, and I could probably easily guess who the three glasses of milk are for.

"Help yourself," she says as I come in. I sit down and reach for a cookie. I nibble at it a bit cautiously - I've had plenty of experience with strangers' cookies, so I've learned not to be too quick to eat cookies. I bit into it - it's soft and moist and tastes amazing.

Just then the boys return, and I reach for two more cookies automatically, knowing that if I don't, this will be my last cookie for awhile.

I'm right – within ten minutes, there are only sugary crumbs left on the once-full platter.

I notice Sean eyeing my remaining cookie, and I hold it a little closer to me, giving him a look. He looks at me pleadingly, and I shake my head no.

_Fine_, he mouths, turning away. I grin and take a bite out the cookie. I set it down and reach for my glass of milk, and Sean's hand snaps out, grabs the cookie, and crams the whole thing into his mouth.

"Sean!" I screech. He smirks triumphantly.

"You should keep better watch over your cookies," he says simply. I glare at him.

"What's going on in here?" An unfamiliar voice asks from the hall. We all look toward the doorway as a slim woman with long dark red hair comes through the door.

"Mum!" Sean exclaims, his victory over my cookie forgotten. He jumps up from the table and runs over to her. "What are you doing here?" he asks, hugging her. "You're not supposed to arrive until tomorrow!"

"I know," she says, smoothing his hair lovingly. "But I couldn't wait any longer. I've missed you too much," she says, kissing his cheek.

"_Muuum_," he says, his ears turning red. "Stop it."

She looks over his head and smiles. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to embarrass you in front of your friends," she says, looking directly at me. I look back, knowing what she's thinking. Yuck. As if.

"So we're going home now?" Jake asks, looking half hopeful, half disappointed.

"No. We're going to Harry and Ginny's house – they've invited us to stay for the holidays," she says, giving Sean a little push toward the door. He bounces away eagerly with a grin. We both him, Jake groaning about how if he'd known we weren't staying, he would've left his stuff downstairs.

Ten minutes later, we're all standing in the hallway with our coats on, saying good-bye to Mrs. Weasley.

"I'm sorry you didn't get to stay longer," she says, hugging Jake good-bye. "But I'll see you all again on Christmas. Then maybe you'll get a taste of my cooking. I was hoping I'd get to cook you all dinner tonight. But some other time, okay?" she says, hugging me as well. I hug her back automatically, and I feel a sudden sadness that I won't get to stay here with her tonight.

"Take care everyone," she says, hugging Sean's mum as well. "See you for Christmas," she adds, kissing her on the cheek.

"Yes, see you then," Sean's mum says with a smile. "Come on, kids. Into the car."

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The ride to Professor Potter's house is full of Jake and Sean's mum talking back and forth about who-knows-what. Sean completely ignores me as we finally pull up to a large white house with a beautiful front garden. There are two sad-looking snowmen with hats and scarves where normally I'm sure there are hundreds of colorful flowers in the spring and summer.

Sean's mum stops the car at the bottom of a set of stairs that lead up to the beautiful house. Sean and Jake jump out immediately, and I follow suit as the boys start dragging their trunks up the stairs.

"I won't be a moment!" Sean's mum – who I'm coming to regard as 'the younger Mrs. Weasley' – calls after us. She puts the car back in gear and drives away, following the paved driveway around the house and out of sight.

Sean is the first one to reach the door. He throws it open eagerly and ushers us inside. I can't help but gape slightly as I step into the entrance hall. This place is nothing short of a mansion. Directly in front of us is a long hallway. On either side of the entrance to the hall are two carpeted stairways that come together to form a sort of balcony at the center before branching off into two hallways. At the center of the balcony is a third, less magnificent, winding staircase that leads up and out of sight. To our left is a set of double doors, which is closed, and to the right is another, shorter hall.

"Wow," I say. "Nice place."

Sean shrugs and starts toward one of the staircases. We all follow him, me gaping at everything from the portraits of famous witches and wizards – and some I've never heard of – to the beautiful crystalline chandelier hanging high above us.

I look half hopefully down one of the longer hallways that branch off from the two staircases and bend out of sight, but Sean and Jake lead me toward the third staircase without even glancing left or right. The staircase winds upward past framed photographs instead of paintings and I can see that this leads to where the family's bedrooms are.

I find my gaze lingering on some of the photos. Professor Potter is in a lot of them, along with Sean's parents and who I assume is Sean's aunt – Professor Potter's wife. As we go upward – this is a very _long_ staircase! – I notice the occupants of the photographs becoming younger and younger. Finally I see one that I have to stop to look at. Sean doesn't notice that I've fallen behind, but Jake does, and he throws me a curious look.

I've never seen this photograph, but I recognize the people in it immediately. For a second I think it's me, but as I lean closer, I can see it's not. There's Professor Potter – it's obvious it's him from his messy black hair and his round glasses – in the Gryffindor common room, sitting near the fire on a couch. On the floor on his stomach is Sean's dad, writing something – probably homework. And in one of the armchairs near them is my mum, reading a book, and glancing toward her friends every so often and smiling to herself.

I knew my mum was friends with Sean's dad and Professor Potter when she was at school, but I've never had proof. I mean, I knew it, but it has never really sunk in, you know? But seeing this photo, it's like … it's _real_. And I can't help but wonder why it is that those two people who obviously meant so much to Mum – judging by the smile on her face in this picture anyway – aren't part of my life. Or they weren't before now.

Looking at that photograph, I feel that annoyingly persistent thought about Professor Potter creep back into my head, but I brush it aside. I'm just overreacting. That letter could have been about anyone!

"Hey, Aria?"

I look up to see Jake looking at me strangely. I try to smile at him – I really do try – but I can't. I can't even manage a grimace. My face feels weird.

"What's wrong?" he asks, instantly by my side. I realize that my face feels so weird because I'm crying. I brush the tears away and shrug. But I can't stop. I don't know what it is, but I just need to cry.

"What's the matter?" Jake asks, starting to sound a bit distraught. He looks like he wants to hug me, but he doesn't. I don't blame him. I wouldn't want to hug some blubbering girl either – especially when she doesn't even know why she's crying.

"I'm fine," I manage through my tears. "I'm just being stupid."

Jake does hug me then – just a quick, fleeting hug, but a hug nonetheless. "Come on," he says. "Let's go."

I give one last look to the photograph on the wall – now Sean's dad is stabbing his homework angrily with his quill, and I can't help but smile.

Jake leads me up the staircase some more, and I keep my eyes away from the gold-framed photos in case another one triggers that odd feeling in me again. I feel embarrassed now for crying in front of Jake, but he doesn't mention it again. He just leads me upward around this extremely long winding staircase until we emerge onto a simple landing. The walls here are cluttered with more gold frames that lead all the way up the ceiling. To our right is another staircase – this one much shorter – that leads down a hallway. We go up the four steps and head down the hall past a few closed doors before arriving in front of one with a shiny gold plaque on it, reading 'Occupied' in loopy letters. I look at Jake questioningly.

"It'll say 'Aria' on it once Mum or Aunt Ginny gets at it," he tells me. "These are just so we know which rooms have guests in them in case someone comes to stay. That way we don't accidentally give someone someone else's room. It was Ron's idea," he says.

"Ron?" I ask. "That's Sean's dad, right?"

"The one and only," Jake says, turning the crystalline doorknob – I'm starting to notice there's a lot of crystals and a lot of gold in this house – and the door swings open silently. The bedroom is like something out of a dream. The floor is dark shiny hardwood, polished smoother than ice. The bed is a huge four-poster with a lacy canopy and beautiful silk bedding. There's a little step ladder to get up to the bed.

Under the bed is a large area rug that looks very, very soft. All of the furniture is white – the bed posts, the chairs, the desk, the bookshelf, the wardrobe, the wood around the full-length mirror in the corner. Even the back of the door is white. The walls are a soft lavender color, like the bedding, and the rug is a mixture of soft pinks and lavender.

"It's beautiful," I say truthfully, setting my trunk down carefully.

"Yeah, Ginny's really good at decorating," Jake says. He leaves the door open as he goes. "My room's two doors down on the left," he adds. "Sean's is the one at the very end on the right. If you need anything, just call," he says.

I take my shoes off before anything else. I feel like it's something I should just do. Then I work on unpacking my clothes for the next few weeks into the wardrobe. My books I put on the desk – all of our teachers gave us homework for the vacation, even Professor Potter. I look around again. In one corner is an owl cage on a stand for Star. That'll be good.

Once I finish unpacking I shut the door and change out of the clothes I'd traveled in. They're slightly damp from the snow and I'm beginning to get cold. I pull on a pair of thick socks, jeans, and a red long-sleeve t-shirt that nicely accents my reddish-brown hair.

I'm unsure of whether or not I should put my shoes back on. I feel like I'm in a public place where you're supposed to wear shoes, but at the same time, it seems like my shoes would only track water and mud around.

"Hey, are you done unpacking?" Sean asks, sticking his head around the door. When I see he's not wearing shoes either, my question is answered.

"Yeah," I say. He comes in and looks around curiously.

"Aunt Ginny did a good job," he comments, jumping up onto the bed and bouncing up and down a couple of times before sitting. I smile at him and nod.

"This room is beautiful," I say. "I wish my whole _house_ looked like this."

"I had hoped you'd like it," an unfamiliar voice says from the doorway. We turn to see a woman in her late twenties with long curly red hair. She's Professor Potter's wife – I recognize her from the photos. The way she's looking at me is a bit unnerving. There's a weird look of understanding and … is that pity in her eyes? _She_ probably knows who my father is…

"It's really great," I say politely. She smiles as she comes forward. As she passes through the doorway she pauses when she notices the gold plaque on the door. She waves her wand and the loopy letters change so they read 'Aria'.

"I knew who you were the moment I laid eyes on you," she says to my questioning glance. "You look just like your mum," she adds.

I know this isn't completely true. My mum has told me a thousand times how the only thing I inherited from her was a certain bookishness, frizzy hair, and bad teeth. Although she did fix my teeth with magic before I started Hogwarts. I also know that I've got her smile. And her chin, which, according to Mum, is a good thing because my dad's chin is slightly square. But just about everything else – my eyes, my nose, the color of my hair, even my freckles – came from my dad (at least that's what Mum's told me). It's after thinking about this that I realize with a slight pang of disappointment and maybe relief that Professor Potter can't be my father – he has dark black hair. If he was my father, my hair would most likely be dark brown, not reddish-brown.

"I'm Ginny Potter by the way," she says, holding out a slender hand. I shake it, feeling slightly apprehensive. Her hands are warm and smooth and they feel good against my slightly cold hands.

"Nice to meet you," I say politely. She smiles in a slightly unnerved way, like my politeness comes as a shock or something.

"Well, come _here_," she says suddenly to Sean, who's still up on the bed. He jumps down and gives her a hug with a smile.

"Erm… Mrs. Potter?" I say uncertainly, not exactly sure of how to address her.

"Please, dear, call me Ginny," she says automatically.

"Okay… Ginny?" I try again.

"Yes?"

"Where's the bathroom?" I ask, feeling my cheeks flush. She laughs a pretty laugh and points me in the direction of a white door that I hadn't noticed before. I feel really dumb now.

"Thanks," I mutter.

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Hermione's POV

When I walk into the kitchen in my bathrobe to get my morning cup of coffee, the first thing I see is an envelope lying on the kitchen table with my name written in the familiar, neat slanting handwriting of a certain Harry Potter.

I tear open the letter somewhat eagerly – this letter is going to tell me whether or not my plan will work.

_Dear Hermione,_

_Plans have changed. _Uh-oh._ We are not having Christmas at Ron's house. I've decided that your plan will work much better if we were to have Christmas at _my_ place. You can come as my personal guest – then it wouldn't seem so weird for you to just show up, as it would be at Ron's house. _Genius! He is a pure GENIUS! _If this doesn't work for you, you don't have to come. But there is an open room for you here, and we'll have a spot for you at dinner tonight. Please let me know immediately, as I'm leaving for home as soon as I send Hedwig off with this. She'll have returned by the time you get it, as I told her to return quickly, so send your letter with your own owl if you could. If not, I'll just expect you. I think your plan might actually work, Hermione. You always were a clever one._

_With love,_

_Harry_

His address is scrawled underneath his closure.

I head into the den and grab some parchment – I finally made it to Diagon Alley last week to stock up. Dipping my quill into some scarlet-colored ink, I being my letter.

_Harry-_

_I'd be happy to spend Christmas at your home. I'll be there around 5:30 – I have to work today (you would think, being the head of my own department, I could get the day off, but _nooo_). We're shorthanded at the moment, so I have to be there, but I'll definitely be at your place for supper. See you soon!_

_Love,_

_Hermione_

I send the letter off with Chawncey before hurrying upstairs to get ready for work, _really_ looking forward to dealing with Carl again today … not.

As I get dressed I think about the holiday. I haven't done any Christmas shopping yet – except for a set of books Aria's been bothering me about since she saw it in a bookstore a few months ago. I want to get presents for my friends' families too, but I don't know what to get, and I don't want to seem too overbearing or intruding by buying them all presents when they don't even know me.

Glancing at the clock I realize that if I don't leave soon I'm going to be late – something that hasn't happened since Aria was two and she accidentally blew up my mum's microwave. That hadn't been pretty – the Ministry had had to come talk to me because my parents live in an all-Muggle neighborhood. They threatened that if I didn't control my daughter they'd control her themselves – not a nice threat by any means. Not that threats are ever nice, but that's not the point. Anyway, I'd been two hours late to work that day, but I haven't been even a minute late since.

I apparate to St. Mungo's and arrive barely a minute before eight. I groan inwardly as a familiar blonde head pokes around the corner of my office.

"Hermione!" he says, beaming. I frown at him. If I've told him once, I've told him a thousand times –

"_Healer Granger,"_ I correct him somewhat instinctively. He shrugs and waves his hand airily.

"Yes, yes, that's all well and fine," he says. I frown some more.

"What do you need _Healer Hendersoughn_?" I ask pointedly. He comes the rest of the way into my office and sits himself on the edge of my desk. I shoo him off and straighten the papers he sent fluttering.

"I couldn't help but overhear you speaking with Evalyn the other day," he starts, and I can feel an eye-roll coming. "You mentioned that your daughter wasn't coming home for Christmas." I feel a certain jolt in my stomach. What is he implying?

"Well, no, but –" I start, but he cuts me off.

"I was wondering if you would do me the honor of accompanying me to a Christmas party in the village where I live. We get together every year. You might actually enjoy yourself for once, _Healer Granger_," he says, putting certain emphasis on the 'Healer Granger' part.

I pretend to think very seriously about this for about ten seconds. "No," I say bluntly, turning to pull my Healer's robes on over my jeans and sweater.

"Well why not? Are you just going to sit at home all by yourself on Christmas?" he asks, sitting on my desk corner again. He _knows_ how much I hate it when he does that.

"No. As a matter of fact an old friend of mine has invited me to spend the holidays at _his_ house," I tell him, making sure he catches that.

"Oh." And then, "Oh! I see. Well yes, I'd better get going. Work to do you know. Happy Christmas, Healer Granger." And then he's gone as quick as he came. I smile to myself, feeling only slightly guilty about using Harry in such a way to get out of plans with Carl.

"Hermione!"

I look up, a frown already making its way across my face – I rarely find reason to smile at my job. But then I see who's standing in my doorway and I smile a true, very relieved smile.

"Eva," I say as she walks in with a smile. "It's good to see you."

The petite blonde-haired witch – also known as my best friend – comes into my office and sits on the edge of my desk in a similar fashion to Carl. I feel a flicker of annoyance, but I ignore it. I don't mind if Eva wants to sit on my desk.

"How's Carl this morning?" she asks with a roll of her grey-blue eyes. I roll my eyes back.

"The usual," I reply, watering the flower on my desk that Aria had picked for me last summer in Meghan's mum's flower garden – I've been keeping it alive with mostly magic and water, but who has to know that?

"What did he want this time?" Eva asks, straightening the pile of papers she messed up when she sat down.

"Trying to con me into going to some Christmas party with him. Buttered me up with the whole 'you shouldn't be alone on Christmas' thing," I answer.

"How'd you back out of that one?"

"Told him the truth: I'm going to an old school friend's for Christmas."

"Who?" she demands, not having heard of these plans earlier. I haven't seen her for weeks, work's been so hectic, so I haven't been able to tell her about my plan.

"Harry."

"Harry _Potter_?" she asks, her eyes widening. She's known that I used to be close friends with Harry for years, but I've never talked about actually speaking to him and visiting him.

"Yes," I answer. She gawks at me.

"But isn't he friends with…?" she trails off.

"Aria's father," I say simply. I can't fool her though. She knows me too well.

"What are you up to?" she asks, narrowing her eyes. I wave my wand so my office door closes, lest any of my more nosy coworkers happen to be lingering outside.

"Well, you know how I've been talking to Ron again," I say. She nods impatiently.

"He's been bothering me about meeting Aria for awhile –"

"Bastard," Eva mutters. I can't help but laugh.

"No, not like that," I say.

"Oh, okay. Sorry. Please continue."

"Okay, well he wants to meet Aria, but I'm her mum right? So I can't help but be a little selfish when it comes to her."

"Just spit it out!" Eva demands, starting to look annoyed.

"I just can't tell Aria yet. I told her that at the end of the school year when she came home for the summer, she could ask anything she wanted to know about her dad and I'd answer, but I don't want her to know about him until then. So I told Ron that I'd let him meet her after Christmas. What I'm really doing is going to Harry's for Christmas, where Ron's family is _also_ spending Christmas, and Aria _also_ happens to be staying for the holiday break," I say, grinning.

"You are a conniving woman," Eva says fondly. I nod.

"I try," I answer somewhat arrogantly. She laughs.

"So what you're basically doing is letting Ron meet Aria without Aria knowing she's really meeting her dad?" she concludes. I nod again.

"Exactly."

"Tricky."

"But brilliant, no?"

"Yes."

"Glad we're agreed."

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**A/N**: I am SO sorry for the huge delay! I wanted to have this chapter up before Christmas, which was a long time ago, but everything was crazy around my house and as soon as we got back to school our teachers piled on the homework (you'd think it was the end of the semester or something, I mean really… lol). So next chapter we'll get to see Ron's reaction! I'm looking forward to it, are you? Sorry for the delay everyone! Cheers! 


	8. A Game of Chess

**Disclaimer**: Ah… I'm running out of witty things to say for this thing… How about this: Roses are red, violets shouldn't be called violets if they're not purple but blue, I don't own Harry Potter, and neither do you (unless you happen to be J.K. Rowling)!

**A/N**: Alright, so here's another chapter! Not too much else to say except I'd really appreciate a few more reviews… (hint hint). Happy reading!

* * *

**Chapter Eight: A Game of Chess**

Aria's POV

Professor Potter – I still can't bring myself to call him Harry like Sean and Jake do – is due home any time now. Ginny told me he had to stop at Sean's house to talk to his dad (Sean's dad, not Professor Potter's) and help with Sean's younger brother and sister.

It's been about an hour since we arrived, and I've met all but one of Ginny and Professor Potter's children – they have _five_ kids! Five! I can hardly imagine it. Anyway, I've met James, the oldest – he's nine; Andrew, the second oldest who's eight and prefers to be called Drew; Chanel who is going to be seven on New Year's Eve; and Lily – full name, Liliana – who is five-and-a-half-and-you-better-not-forget-the-half (her exact words). The only one left is Tristan, who is currently taking a nap and is not to be disturbed – he turned two in October.

I still haven't met Sean's younger siblings, but I know a little bit about them. Abby turned four in September and Henry is going to be two in March, but that's about all I know so far.

"Hey, Aria! Want to play chess?" Sean calls from in front of the fireplace where he and Jake have been lying on their stomachs for the last forty-five minutes playing said chess game.

"C'mon, Aria," Jake encourages from across from Sean. "Live a little!"

I cannot now, nor have I ever been able to win a chess game, muggle or wizard. Not even against my mum, who is almost as bad as me. She always teases me that I inherited her chess-playing skills. Sadly, she's always right.

I'm going to lose, but alright," I sight, getting up from the comfy armchair I've been sitting in for almost half an hour, reading a book my mum got me for my birthday that I've never gotten around to reading before now.

Sean quickly reassembles the chess board and Jake moves over so I can sit down. Sean's pieces are white so he moves first.

Sean commands his pawn forward, and it obediently slides toward me two places. I stare at the cap it left behind, wondering what Sean might do next, but then I realize it's my turn.

"Um… Pawn to A4," I say uncertainly, and the pawn moves willingly. Sean's white pawn and my black pawn are now face-to-face, almost touching. I remember how when I was little and my mum would play chess – muggle chess not wizard – against my grandpa, I would make the pawns facing each other touch, so it looked – to me as a five-year-old – like they were kissing. I smile when I think of how these magical pawns would react if I were to do that now.

"What are you grinning at?" Sean asks suspiciously as he moves his castle forward two places so it's directly behind his pawn.

"Nothing," I say quickly. "Pawn to H3," I add. The pawn practically jumps one place forward.

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Ten minutes later I'm losing miserably. Almost all of Sean's white pieces are on my half of the board except his king, one knight, and a castle (the latter two are of course, protecting the king very dutifully).

Sean also has almost all of my pieces except the king (obviously, or the game would e over), my queen, two pawns, one knight, a castle, and a bishop. I have a total of four of Sean's pieces captured – and three of them are pawns. The biggest highlight thus far was undoubtedly the capture of Sean's queen – his most valuable piece. The look on Sean's face was something I wish I could get a picture of – Jake laughed uncontrollably on the floor for five full minutes at the look on Sean's face.

I'm about to move my queen to capture Sean's other knight (the one not guarding the king) – Sean unwisely sacrificed his knight to take one of my remaining pawns – when the door to the second-floor sitting room room we're gathered in opens to reveal Professor Potter and a red-haired man I immediately recognize as Sean's father. I feel an uncomfortable tug in my gut when I remember the circumstances of my last meeting with Sean's dad. The two of them have two small children in tow.

"Daddy!" Lily and Chanel run over to Professor Potter and latch onto his legs as he sets down a rather ill-looking little boy (I imagine he didn't take well to traveling by Floo powder).

"Hey, Dad," Sean says, glancing back down at the chess game. His eyes widen in dismay when he realizes his mistake with the bishop. Jake starts to crack up again.

"Aria."

I look up at the sound of my name. It's slightly unnerving when I realize that it was Sean's dad who spoke. He must have an incredible memory if he remembers my mum yelling my name as she burst into Olivander's last summer. Or maybe Professor Potter told him.

"Yeah?" I ask uncertainly. He jumps and looks quickly at Professor Potter – I immediately come to the conclusion that my DADA teacher did not tell Mr. Weasley my name. Professor Potter nods slowly, and Sean's dad's expression goes from unbelieving to ecstatic to confusion to anger in a time frame of about five seconds. It would be more amusing if it weren't for the fact that my name brought about this odd sequence.

"I need to speak with your daddy now," Mr. Weasley says to Lily and Chanel, who reluctantly release their father. Sean's dad drags Professor Potter into the hall and all but slams the door behind them.

"Hi, I'm Abby," I hear from my right. I look over to see a little red-haired girl beside me. She grins at me.

"Hey there, Abby. My name is –"

"ARIA?" we all hear from the hall. Everyone in the room turns to stare at the door, but apparently Sean's father doesn't feel further need to scream. Instead we hear angry muttering and exasperated noises.

"That's me," I say, gesturing toward the door. "I'm Aria."

"You're pretty," Abby says, sitting down beside me cross-legged and peering curiously at the chess board between her brother and me.

"Thanks," I say with a laugh. Abby smiles up at me again.

"I like you," the little girl says.

"You're not the only one," Sean says with a knowing grin.

"Shut up," Jake snarls from beside me. I roll my eyes at Abby, who giggles.

"Hi, Jake!" Abby says to him. He looks at her and smiles quickly. Abby frowns at him, and he makes a face at her. She grins.

"I missed you," Jake says, crawling around me and sitting down again behind Abby. She looks up at him.

"I missed you more," she says.

"Bet not."

"Uh-huh."

"Uh-uh."

"Yes."

"Nah."

"Yeah huh!"

"No way."

"Yes I did!"

"No you didn't."

I roll my eyes again and tell my poor queen – she's starting to look really anxious to get Sean's bishop – to move diagonally three places. She does so eagerly.

The door to the room bursts open again and Sean's dad enters, looking extremely peeved – and that's putting it mildly. Professor Potter comes in after him and goes toward Ginny. The two of them hold a quickly whispered conversation while Mr. Weasley goes and plops down in my abandoned armchair, practically flinging my book away. I resist the urge to yell at him for throwing my book as I stand up to retrieve it from the corner it landed in, the cover splayed out and pages bending. I can feel his eyes following me as I get the book and smooth out a page and replace my bookmark before shutting it and gently setting it on the coffee table.

"You really are your mother's daughter," he says to me, laughing bitterly. I look at him, not sure whether he meant it as a compliment or not. He just looks back at me with blue eyes that look awfully familiar. I can't place where I've seen those eyes before. But there's an immense sadness in those eyes too. An almost heart-breaking sadness. I look away, not able to stare into that naked sadness any longer.

"Aria?" Sean asks from in front of the fireplace. "Gonna finish the game?"

I look back at my friends, and then at Sean's father again. He smiles softly. "Go win your game," he says quietly. I have to smile at him.

"I'm not going to win," I tell him matter-of-factly.

"Why's that?" he asks, looking slightly confused.

"I suck at chess," I reply.

"And why is that?"

"What do you mean?" I ask; it's my turn to be confused.

"Why do you suck at chess?"

"Because I inherited my mum's chess-playing skills," I say, and he laughs, this time a real laugh.

"Well then you'll probably lose," he says, still chuckling.

"Mr. Weasley?" I ask, and his smile disappears. In it's place is a very sad frown. He looks at me, waiting for me to continue.

"Yes, Aria?"

"Did you know my mum really well?" I ask, feeling slightly uncomfortable.

He sighs and gestures for me to come forward. I go and stand in front of him, and he reaches out and takes a hold of my hands. Leaning forward, he stares straight into my eyes.

"If I told you anything, your mum would kill me," he says seriously, and there's not a trace of a joke anywhere to be found in the lines of his face.

"I don't see why," I answer truthfully. He squeezes my hands, and for a split second I swear I see a trace of a tear in his eye, but it might just be the trick of the flickering firelight.

"Your mum was one of the best friends I ever had. That's all I'll tell you," he says, releasing my hands. He sits back and nods his head toward Sean and Jake, who are watching us. "Go win the chess game," he says again, and this time there's a catch in his voice. He looks away quickly and I head back over to my friends.

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Ron's POV

As Aria walks back to finish her chess game – which, despite the fact that Hermione is an awful chess player, and she's supposedly passed down her 'skills' to her daughter, she'll probably win – I think about our conversation. I just spoke to my daughter for the first time, and she called me Mr. Weasley. Well, it wasn't like I was expecting her to burst out and say 'You're my dad!' or anything, because she's never learned anything about me, but there was just a second there that I thought she might know who I am. There was just a moment when she looked me straight in the eye, and it was like she could see my mind. It's scary how much like Hermione she is in that way. Hermione could always do that too.

I watch her as she plays chess, thinking over each move carefully before saying anything – a skill, I notice with some satisfaction, that Hermione never possessed. I also notice that she has Sean's queen in her possession. I almost laugh out loud at that.

Across the room, Harry and Ginny are entertaining Lily and Chanel with magical bubbles that make musical notes when they pop. James and Drew are sitting in a corner by themselves, whispering excitedly and bending over a box of something – I honestly don't want to know what. Henry is sitting on Harry's lap, watching his cousins pop bubbles in fascination, and Abby is looking up at Aria with a look of admiration written all over her little freckled face. I feel a jolt in my stomach at the sight of them. They look so much alike. Aria's hair is slightly darker of course, and Abby's eyes are darker blue, but in all other respects, Abby is just a miniature version of Aria.

As I watch them, I notice Jake eyeing them as well, a puzzled expression on his face, and I feel my heart sink. Jake – while a trouble maker and a prankster – is not stupid. I'm not entirely sure he knows that Aria doesn't know who her father is, but if he does, he'll easily be able to figure who his friend's dad is by looking at Aria and Abby. I can only hope that if he does figure it out, he won't feel obliged to tell Aria.

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About five minutes later, I hear a shout of outrage from Sean, who I doubt has ever lost a chess game against anyone but Harry or me, and I grin. Aria laughs, and I feel a shiver go up my spine. That laugh is Hermione's through and through. I almost forgot what that laugh sounds like.

I chuckle quietly to myself at the look of pure shock on my son's face, and Aria's head snaps around to look at me. Those eyes – my eyes – look at me, a mixture of happiness and gratefulness very obvious right now. I smile at her, and a small smile appears on that face. That face I see whenever I think about her mother.

In the hall, I hear the big grandfather clock chime five o'clock. As Aria looks at me, I wonder where Hermione is. Is she all alone for Christmas? Is she with a friend of hers? Is she at work? I try to avoid the thought, especially since it's none of my business, but the possibility comes to mind anyway. Is she with a boyfriend?

Suddenly the doorbell sounds through the house (Harry made sure it was loud enough to be heard throughout the entire house after he bought it, since the place is so huge). Harry glances at his watch, frowns, and is about to get up when the door to the sitting room we're in opens and a house elf stands there, waiting for Harry to allow her inside.

"Come on in, Misa," Harry calls from across the room. The tiny house elf scurries over to him and murmurs something. He says something back and she scurries away again. I smile as the door closes behind her. Hermione – while against house elf enslavement – would be proud of Harry. He pays his house elves and allows them to quit. Some of them refuse pay, insisting that their sole happiness is in pleasing the Potter family, but they accept other trinkets as a kind of substitute payment. Some of them even buy new clothes every month.

A few minutes later there's a knock hesitant knock on the door. Harry sets Henry in Ginny's lap and hurries to the door. He opens it just a crack and whispers hurriedly with whoever is on the other side. I crane my neck around to see who it is, but Harry is too tall, and the door is barely open. Henry, upset at his uncle leaving him, waddles over to Harry and manages to shove himself between the door and Harry's legs.

"Hi!" he says up at the unknown guest. I hear a noise of amusement and a slight 'aww' at his cuteness – which he gets completely from me of course.

"Well … come in then," Harry says, sounding slightly uncomfortable. He picks up Henry and steps back, allowing whoever is there to come in. I just about fall out of my chair when I see who it is.

"Mum?" Aria asks incredulously, looking back and forth between Hermione and Harry with a bewildered look on her face. She jumps up and runs to Hermione, throwing her arms around her. Hermione smiles and hugs her tightly. I feel a lump in my throat and I look away to regain my composure for a second. It's not fair.

Hermione whispers something in Aria's ear, and she nods with a grin on her face. I watch them, a pit of envy settling into my stomach. Hermione glances my way and she pales slightly. She stares at me, and over Aria's head, mouths, 'I'm sorry.'

I glare at her, and she looks away. Sorry? For what, tricking me? For not telling _my_ daughter about me? Sorry? Sorry isn't good enough this time, Hermione.

Watching them, I see Hermione straighten a gold chain around Aria's neck, and smooth her hair down. She smiles and something in her hand catches the light. I try to see what it is, but Aria takes it back, and Hermione hugs her.

"Quit staring," Harry mutters in my ear, making me jump. I turn and glare at him.

"Easy for you to say," I snarl, a bit too loudly I guess, because Hermione and Aria turn to look at me. Side-by-side, it's easy to see that they're related.

"Mate, I know it's hard, but you have to be civil – for Aria's sake," Harry says, adding the last part so I won't argue with him. He knows me too well I think.

"Well, I'm going to check on dinner," Ginny says, standing up and leaving the room, not able to stand the tension any longer. daughter about me? Sorry? Sorry isn't good enough this time, Hermione.

Watching them, I see Hermione straighten a gold chain around Aria's neck, and smooth her hair down. She smiles and something in her hand catches the light. I try to see what it is, but Aria takes it back, and Hermione hugs her.

"Quit staring," Harry mutters in my ear, making me jump. I turn and glare at him.

"Easy for you to say," I snarl, a bit too loudly I guess, because Hermione and Aria turn to look at me. Side-by-side, it's easy to see that they're related.

"Mate, I know it's hard, but you have to be civil – for Aria's sake," Harry says, adding the last part so I won't argue with him. He knows me too well I think.

"Well, I'm going to check on Tristan," Ginny says, standing up and leaving the room, not able to stand the tension any longer. Lily and Chanel watched her go, looking immensely unhappy that their source of entertainment was leaving.

"I'll go with you," I offer, standing up quickly. Ginny gives me a look that clearly says 'follow me and die'.

"No thanks, Ron. I'll be fine," she says, still glaring. I sit back down reluctantly. Hermione rolls her eyes and says something to Aria, who goes back to sit in front of the fire with Sean, Jake, and Abby again.

"Hello, Ron," Hermione says, walking over to me. She offers me a smile, which I somehow manage to return.

"I didn't know you were coming," I say, feeling stupid. She shrugs.

"Harry invited me," she says simply.

"I didn't know you and Harry were … erm … corresponding," I reply, feeling my ears turn red. Even after all these years, Hermione manages to make me blush for saying even a word that doesn't work. She smiles though, so I feel a bit better. She looks around and notices Abby, who's now sitting in Aria's lap and trying to help with the chess game – Sean demanded a rematch, insisting that Aria somehow cheated (I don't think he took too well to losing).

"Where's … Keira?" she asks, her eyes roaming around the room.

"Helping with dinner," I answer automatically. Keira's been avoiding me all day. I was really curious as to why until I saw Aria – she probably thinks it was _my_ idea to invite her! Oh Merlin, I hate to imagine what she'll do when she finds out Hermione's here.

"Oh," Hermione says quietly.

"Hermione, can I ask you something?" I say, hoping I don't sound as mean as I'm feeling. I can tell by her face that she knows I'm not feeling very nice at the moment though.

"Sure," she murmurs.

"Are you ever going to tell Aria?" I whisper angrily. She looks extremely uncomfortable now, and I hate that I'm the one making her feel this way.

"Yes," she answers shakily.

"When?"

She looks at me, tears in her eyes. "Ron, I know you don't understand," she starts, and there's a pleading tone in her voice that makes my heart clench, "but you have to try. I raised Aria all by myself, and I've never had to … well, share her before. And her whole life I kept telling myself that as long as she didn't know too much about you, everything was okay, because then she'd never have the chance to love you better than me," she says, looking down. I feel like the worst person in the world right now, looking at this run-down woman who used to be my best friend.

"And I will tell her about you," Hermione continues, raising her head a few inches to look at me. There are tears swimming in her eyes. "But not now. I told her I'd tell her everything she wanted to know about you on the first day of summer break. I just don't know how else to do it. I want to be able to sit down and talk to her face-to-face, and I don't think I could do that during Christmas. I know it doesn't make sense to you, but it does to me," she says, swallowing hard.

"I understand," I murmur. She smiles at me. "Hermione?" She looks up. "I missed you," I say, standing up and wrapping my arms around her. She stiffens automatically, and I release her, knowing not to push my boundaries. She grimaces at me.

"Sorry," she whispers.

"It's alright," I answer, wiping away a tear that managed to slip out of her eyes. She smiles.

"Ron?"

"Yeah?"

"I missed you too."

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**A/N**: There's another chapter! Next one is coming out soon, I promise! I'm already starting work on it, so don't worry! Happy Martin Luther King Day (a bit early)! Press that little bluish gray button down there and leave a review! Cheers! 


	9. Anger All Around

**Disclaimer**: I'm rubber, you're glue; I wish I was J.K. Rowling – I bet you do too!

**A/N**: Here's chapter nine for you! Hope you enjoy! Happy reading!

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**Chapter Nine: Anger All Around**

Hermione's POV

I still feel awful for tricking Ron like this. I could tell last night that it really hurts him I haven't told Aria about him yet. But I can't bring myself to tell her just now.

It's early morning now, and no one else is up yet. The room Ginny set up for me is beautiful – full of gold and scarlet. There's a window across from my bed with a beautiful view of Ginny's back yard garden – which is normally filled with hundreds of gorgeous flowers, I'm sure.

Right now, it's about six in the morning, so it's still dark out. I'm sitting on my bed, in the dark, just thinking. I still can't believe Aria won a chess game – against Sean nonetheless, who had probably had a lifetime amount of training from Ron. She was ecstatic about it last night. It was so cute.

Feeling restless, I slide out of bed. Pulling open the door as quietly as I can, I slip into the dark hall. In my bare feet I pad down the hall. I go down the four steps that lead to the landing, and I stare up at all the framed photographs. Most of them are of Harry and Ginny's family here. A lot of the lower ones are of their children – I still can't believe they have _five_ kids! I couldn't imagine going through childbirth even once more, let alone _four_ more times!

Still feeling fidgety, I start down the spiral staircase that leads to the second floor. I stare at the photos as I pass. Most of these are of Ron, Harry, and me from school. As I go downward the occupants of the photos grow older. I smile at one of the pictures of us from fourth year. It was at the Yule Ball. I remember how insanely jealous Ron was when he found out I was going with Victor and I grin at the younger version of myself in the picture.

The fifteen-year-old me is scowling at Ron, who is scowling at Victor. Harry is seated beside Ron, looking exasperated at our stupidity, and Victor looks extremely uncomfortable. Another one catches my eye, and I feel my breath catch in my chest. It's from right after Professor Dumbledore's funeral at the end of our sixth year. Ron, Harry, and I are sitting under our favorite tree by the lake. We don't look … happy exactly, but we look peaceful for once, despite the fact that there's a war raging everywhere else.

"Hey, you're up early."

I whirl around to see Ron standing a few steps up, almost out of sight beyond the tight turns in the spiral staircase. He walks toward me, smiling.

"Couldn't sleep," I reply.

"Me neither," he says, coming to a stop beside me. He notices the picture of us and a strange expression takes over his face. I realize it's the last picture ever taken of all three of us together. During the war we didn't have time for pictures, and I left barely a month after the war was over.

"I love this picture of you," Ron says, pointing to another picture I never noticed. It's from our fifth year, right before O.W.L.s and I'm sitting in a huge armchair in front of the fire, studying from a giant album of Ancient Runes. The firelight is reflecting off my hair, and I look exhausted.

"Why?" I ask, laughing slightly. Ron shrugs.

"Dunno. I just do. Someone managed to capture the real Hermione on camera. Maybe that's why I love it so much. In this picture, you're you."

"I'm always me," I say, confused.

"No. No, you're not," Ron says, looking down at me. I stare up at him, unsure of what he means.

"What do you mean?" I ask, puzzled.

"Even that first time I saw you after Diagon Alley last summer, I could tell. You aren't Hermione anymore," he says.

"What are you talking about? I'm still Hermione," I say, exasperated.

"No you aren't! You aren't Hermione! Hermione Granger is clever, witty, sassy, sarcastic when you have to be, smart, and loves to read! Not … this," he says, gesturing toward me with his hand.

"What are you saying?" I ask, starting to feel a bit offended.

"You aren't Hermione anymore."

I glare at him. "How could I be the same person I was twelve years ago, Ron? I lost _everything_ the day I left! I lost my friends and the people I'd come to regard as my family. I lost you," I whisper, tears starting to swim in front of my eyes.

He gives me a funny look, and it isn't a look that makes me feel good either. "You didn't _lose_ me," he sneers, and I take a step back. "_You_ left _me_ remember? If anything, _I_ lost _you_! You didn't lose anything, Hermione! You _left_!" he snarls.

"You have –"

"– no idea? Hermione, how can you say I have no idea if you don't tell me? Yes, you had to raise Aria all by yourself, I get it. Yes, you had to leave all your friends behind! But you know what, Hermione? If you hadn't left, you never would have _lost_ anything! You _stole_ my daughter away from me, Hermione. You deliberately kept me out of her life. How can you say you lost anything? _I_ lost everything when you left! I lost my best friend. I lost the woman I loved. I lost my daughter! You make me sick," he says, shoving me out of his way. He storms away, not even looking back. A few seconds later he disappears around a corner.

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Harry's POV

I'm woken up by the sound of someone shouting from the direction of the stairs. I stumble out of bed and head down the hall to silence the disturbance before everyone is awake and cranky. I can't make out any words until I come to the head of the stairs. Then Ron's angry voice floats upward to me.

"…I lost my best friend! I lost the woman I loved! I lost my daughter! You make me sick."

Worried, I hurry down the stairs, toward the noise of someone – most likely Hermione – crying. When I turn the corner and see her sitting on the stairs, sobbing, I pick up the pace.

"Hermione?" I ask, concerned. She looks up at me, her face a mask of despair. I sit down next to her. "What happened?"

She looked at me and shook her head wordlessly, tears still streaming down her face.

"Oh, Hermione," I sigh, wrapping my arms around her. She buries her head in my neck like Chanel does when she's especially sad and wraps her arms around me, shaking with sobs.

"D-did you h-hear any of that?" she asks shakily.

"Only the last little bit," I answer truthfully.

"The part where Ron told me how much he hated me?" she asks, laughing bitterly.

"That's not what he said," I chide her.

"Might as well have," she mumbles.

"Hermione, Ron _loves_ you," I say, knowing I shouldn't go where I am. She pulls back sharply.

"I _never_ want to hear you say that again," she growls. I nod, knowing I just crossed one of Hermione's lines. I look at her, and I see something I didn't know existed in Hermione. I look at her, and I see helplessness.

"Hermione," I start, but she shakes her head.

"Forget it Harry. Coming here was a mistake." She stands up to leave, but I grab her arm before she can get away.

"Hermione, let me finish." She nods for me to continue. "Hermione, we all missed you. You have no idea how great it is to have you back."

"According to Ron, you _don't_ have me back," she says, rolling her eyes.

"What?"

"Ask _him!_" she screeches, and I can see I definitely struck a nerve.

"Hermione, please stay. Aria's missed you so much." She gives me a dirty look for using Aria against her.

"I'll stay – but only for Aria's sake," she snarls, jerking away from me and going back upstairs. I watch her go, thinking of what she said about Ron just a bit ago. What did she mean?

I head downstairs, and then down to the first floor. I head left, down to the very end of the hall, where the door is slightly ajar. I push open the door silently and look inside. Ron's sitting in the kitchen at the counter on a barstool, stirring the ice in a glass of water with a straw he probably found in the cupboard where Ginny thinks they're hidden from James and Drew (they use them for their "experiments", not that I want to know what they're doing).

"Hey, mate," Ron says without looking up. I go and sit down beside him.

"Talked to Hermione," I tell him. He nods.

"I screwed up," he mumbles, stirring the ice around and around until the water in the glass makes a whirlpool.

"Yup."

"Gee, thanks, Harry."

"No problem."

"Harry?"

"Ron."

"Why do I do that?"

"Do what?"

"I always say the exact opposite of what I _should_ say."

"What do you mean?"

"When it comes to Hermione, I can never think straight, mate. I know what I _should_ say to her, you know? But it always comes out the wrong way. When I mean to compliment her, I make it ten times worse than an insult. What's my problem?"

I look at him, wondering if I should say what I'm thinking. I tried that with Hermione, and she just about killed me. I glance at Ron. We've been best friends since we were eleven years old.

"Ron, you wanna know what your problem is?"

"Tell me, Harry."

"You're in love."

"Huh?" He looks at me like I'm crazy, giving me one of those 'of-course-I'm-in-love-stupid-I'm-married-aren't-I?' looks.

"You're in love."

"Yeah I – "

"With Hermione."

"WHAT?"

"You're in love with Hermione."

"That's rubbish."

"Is it?"

"Yes. Complete rubbish."

"Whatever you say."

He glares at me. I can tell he doesn't believe me, but I know I'm right. The way he looks at Hermione when he thinks no one is looking. He may be married to Keira and have three kids with her (even if, technically, only two are his), but he is still head over heels in love with a certain Hermione Granger.

"Harry?"

"Yes, Ron."

"Do you really think so?"

"Yes, Ron."

"What am I gonna do?"

"_Do_?"

He turns to look at me, his face covered in confusion. "What am I gonna do about being in love with Her… Herm… _her_," he says.

"Do?" I ask again, still confused as to what he means.

"Yes, _do_!"

"You can't _do_ anything!"

"Why not?"

"Ron, you're married." He looks at me blankly. "Do you love Keira?"

"Yes."

"Do you love Sean and Abby and Henry?"

"Yes, of course I do!" he says indignantly.

"So you aren't going to do _anything_! You're going to act like nothing has changed."

Ron groans and bangs his head on the counter – which, I might add, is made of marble.

"How can I do that, Harry?"

"Because you have a family you love and you don't want to hurt them do you?"

"Of course not."

"Then you're going to pretend you have no feelings for Hermione other than platonic friendship feelings. Got it?"

"I'm going to screw this up," he mutters.

"How?"

"I always say the worst thing to her. I say the thing that hurts the most, and then I lose my temper and hurt her even more. It's not that I want to hurt her, Harry. I just don't know what else to do. It just infuriates me that she left and she's trying to blame _me_! Trying to make me feel bad with all that 'I lost _everything_' rubbish!"

"Maybe it just hurts so much that she left that you don't know what else to do," I suggest. He shrugs.

"I just wish she'd never left sometimes, you know? Sometimes I miss her so much I almost wish I'd never met Keira."

I nod. "Yeah, I know. I miss Hermione sometimes too."

"And sometimes I just get so mad that she left, and she never even told me about Aria. I mean, she's _my _daughter too and – " he breaks off and looks around. "What was that?" he hisses. I listen. There's a scuffling sound outside the door and then the sound of footsteps running away. Ron jumps up and runs to the door. I follow quickly.

We stick our heads out the door just in time to see someone's sock disappearing around the corner. Ron starts forward, but I grab his arm.

"Forget it Ron."

"What if that was Sean?" he asks anxiously, pulling against my grip. "What if he heard what I said about Keira?"

"Just forget it. You'll know soon enough if it was Sean," I say, knowing that if it _was_ Sean, the house won't be very peaceful for a few days.

Ron sighs and his arms go limp, and I know it's safe to release him. I do so and he looks back at me. "My life is way too complicated," he says. I laugh.

"Mine too."

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Jake's POV

I run. And run some more. And I keep running until I'm sure no one is following me. Then, breathing harder than I've ever breathed before, I turn one more corner and open a door that leads to one of the storerooms on this second floor hall.

I shut the door quietly behind me and walk further into the room, looking over my shoulder as I do so. I keep walking toward the back of the room, but it just keeps going. I'm sure I've never been in this room before (and I've been to Harry and Ginny's house quite a few times in my life). There are cardboard boxes, wooden crates, and big cupboards all over the place. Looking behind me one more time to make sure I'm not being followed, I go to the nearest crate and pry the lid off.

Inside are a bunch of old spell books, probably from Harry's years at school, considering 'Property of Harry J. Potter' is scrawled inside almost all of them. I put the lid back on and move on. In the next crate are Ginny's old school books from her first through third year. These are really tattered and I remember how Ginny used to talk about how poor her family was when they were in school. She and Harry sure have it good now, what with Harry having been an Auror for ten years before applying for a position at the school. And even before that Harry had a lot of money from his parents.

I close up that crate too and sit on it to think. Last night, looking at Abby on Aria's lap, I couldn't get it out of my head how much they looked alike. It was like looking at a miniature version of Aria with redder hair and darker eyes. And Aria has never said a word about having a father. And last night I got to thinking … what if Ron is Aria's dad? So this morning, when I woke up to hear Ron yelling about something or other, naturally, I had to investigate. I walked downstairs to hear Harry talking to Aria's mum.

I'm still in shock over what Harry said to her. _'Ron loves you._' But Ron loves Keira! So when Hermione went back upstairs – I was barely able to hide before she came by – and Harry went downstairs, I followed Harry. And I got there just in time to hear Ron admit it – he _does_ love Aria's mum!

I can't believe this. What am I going to tell Sean? And what about Aria? If she doesn't know who her father is she'd want to know…

"You can't tell her you know."

I jump at the voice. I turn around to see Harry standing behind me, leaning against the wall. I see him slip a packet of parchment into his pocket, and I glance at him curiously. He just smiles.

"A simple invention of mine," he says simply, coming to sit beside me on the other crate.

"What do you mean I can't tell her?"

"You can't tell Aria what you heard."

"Why not?" I ask indignantly. I mean after all, Aria is _my _friend! I should be able to tell her who her own father is!

"You have to let Hermione and Ron work that out between themselves."

"Are Ron and Keira going to split up?" I ask worriedly.

"No! Why would you think that?"

"Ron said he was in love with Hermione."

"He's still in love with Keira though."

"How can you be in love with two people at the same time?" I ask, confused.

"It's like … I love Ginny."

"Of course."

"But I love Lily and Chanel and James and Drew and Tristan too don't I?"

"That's not the same thing," I protest.

"Why not?"

"Because Lily and Chanel and everybody are your kids, and Ginny's your wife. That's different than being married and loving another woman at the same time."

"Don't you worry about Ron and Keira. Everything will be fine. Ron's not going to abandon his family," Harry says, obviously trying to be reassuring.

"But isn't Aria his family too?" I ask. "He abandoned her."

"Ron did _not_ abandon Aria!" Harry growls, and I jump. He looks angrier than I've ever seen him – and I've done a lot of things to make him angry before.

"I just mean…"

"I get it."

"Harry?"

"What, Jake?"

"Does Hermione love Ron?"

"I don't know, Jake."

"Do you think she does?"

"I think … I think that deep down, she knows she does. But she's too scared to admit it. She'd never do anything to hurt Ron's family, so she pretends she hates him. That's what I think," he says quietly.

"Is Aria ever going to know about Ron?"

"Someday."

"I hate keeping secrets."

"I know," he says with a laugh. "But you have to. Hermione will tell Aria in her own time. You have to have faith in her."

"I don't even know her," I tell him, and he grins at me.

"I realize that. But I do – or I like to think I do. She keeps her word. She'll tell Aria when the time is right. But now, I think it's time for breakfast, don't you?"

I jump up. "Breakfast sounds great!" I tell him, and he laughs.

"Lets go then."

So we do. We make our way out of the maze-like storage room and down the stairs and down the hall and into the dining room where everyone is gathered together for breakfast, still in their pajamas (well, Keira's not in her pajamas, because she'd rather die than be seen in the morning still looking like she just got up, and Aria is dressed, probably out of habit, but that's not the point). Everyone, that is, except Aria's mum. Ginny and Keira are both trying to get their youngest children to eat their breakfasts, and Ron is eating somewhat absentmindedly with Abby sitting on his lap. As I sit down between Aria and Sean, I notice Ron's eyes on me, and I look away quickly. He knows that I know.

I glance at Abby again, and then at Aria. Abby is picking at her food with a very tired look on her face. Her red hair is uncombed and knotted, and she looks ready to kill anyone who so much as says 'good morning' to her. Aria on the other hand, is wide awake. Her hair is combed and clipped up with these little butterfly clips. She's wearing blue jeans and a baby blue sweater with sparkles on it that catch the light. She looks pretty. She catches my eye and smiles slightly.

Breakfast proceeds pretty silently. After eating, I get out of there as fast as I can. You could've swept up the tension in there with Harry's old Firebolt!

"Hey." My arm is suddenly in the clutches of an all too familiar hand.

"Hey, Ron."

"You haven't told her, have you?"

"If you mean Aria, no, I haven't told her anything," I say, jerking my arm away. "But I should," I add angrily. "I should tell her _everything_. But I won't," I say, turning away.

"Jake, what's the matter?"

"If you love her so much why did you marry Keira?" I snarl, not able to help myself. He flinches as if he was just hit.

"You don't understand," he snaps. Then he laughs. "How could you? You're twelve years old! You know _nothing_ of love."

I glare at him as he walks away. I might not know much about love, but I do know that if _I_ were him, I wouldn't have married another woman if I was in love with someone else.

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**A/N**: Alright, chapter ten is coming up next! Who is getting excited? 


	10. Christmas Part I

**Disclaimer**: Little Miss Muffet sat on a tuffet, eating her curds and whey. A little black spider dropped down beside her and I own nothing, I say! (That included Little Miss Muffet, who I believe belongs to Mother Goose, but I could be wrong.)

**A/N**: Chapter TEN!!! I'm so happy! I can't believe my beautiful story has come so far! In honor of this wonderful double digit number, this chapter is going to be the long-awaited Christmas chapter! Here's a bit for all my mind-reading reviewers (you'd have to actually review to get that joke). A bit of Keira/Hermione interaction going on, a bit of Hermione getting flustered at Ron, and Aria gets to meet all those crazy Weasleys! Such a huge event, I had to make it into two parts! Enjoy!

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**Chapter Ten: Christmas - Part I**

Aria's POV

I wake up one Christmas morning, feeling slightly uneasy about the day. Mum and Mr. Weasley aren't speaking, and Jake is suddenly very quiet, hardly speaking to anyone. Looking at the clock, I see it's still only seven o'clock. Suddenly the door to my bedroom bursts open and there stands Abby in her nightgown, a very upset look on her face.

"Aria," she says, her lip trembling. I slide down off the bed and hurry over to her.

"What's wrong, Abby?"

"I had a bad dream," she whimpers. I feel a strange sensation in my stomach at the thought of Abby choosing _me_ to come to – me, who she barely knows – over her own brother or dad. I scoop her up and take her to the bed.

"What was your dream about?" I ask.

"There was a monster chasing me!" she cries.

"What kind of monster."

"A scary one!"

I smile at her. "You wanna know a secret?" I whisper, looking around as though to make sure no one was around for effect. She nods eagerly. "Monsters aren't real," I say in a stage whisper. Her dark blue eyes widen.

"Wow."

"Wanna know something else?" She nods.

"It's Christmas today."

"Yay!"

"Wanna go open presents?"

"Yeah!"

"Okay, but you have to ask your parents," I tell her, lifting her off the bed. She runs off down the hall and opens the door to her parents' room. A minute later, a very sleeping looking Mr. Weasley comes out, Abby dragging her by the hand. As they pass my room, she reaches out her other hand to me expectantly. Her dad looks at me in surprise as I take Abby's hand.

The four-year-old drags us down the stairs and to the room where the Christmas tree is set up. It's ten feet tall and the most beautiful thing I've ever seen – although Professor Potter says that the Hogwarts Christmas trees easily beat out his.

As it turns out, everyone else is already there, even – to my surprise – my mum. She's looking extremely uncomfortable with little Tristan on her lap. He's playing with the pearl necklace I gave her for her birthday, looking perfectly content. Harry is sitting beside her, smiling encouragingly at her pleading looks. She's probably never held a little boy before.

"Morning," I say, drawing the attention over to us. Sean smiles and Jake looks away uncomfortably. I wish I knew what's up with him. He's been so weird lately. Abby releases her dad and drags me to sit beside Sean near the Christmas tree where their mum is sorting all the presents into separate piles. Once that's done, she gets up and seats herself on a couch next to Mr. Weasley, lacing her hand with his. I can't help but notice Jake's disgusted look and Mr. Weasley's warning glance.

"Should we start?" Harry asks. All the little kids jump up and run to the tree and start tearing into their presents. I'm surprised to see that Mum got every single one of them presents as well. I start on my own pile hesitantly. The first one is from Mum. I unwrap it, curious as to what she could have gotten me. It's some sort of book, I can tell that by the shape, but it's not a normal book. I can tell because it's not quite as heavy as a normal book this size would be. When I finally get all the paper off, I look at it carefully. It's old, there's no doubt about that. The worn leather cover is soft and faded with age, and the edges of the pages are yellowed. I open it carefully, and the cover creaks.

I read inside of the cover, the only part written in ink that looks new.

_Dear Aria, This is something I think you'll one day come to cherish. Some of it won't make sense now, because I've edited it slightly, but I promise to lift the spells on it next summer when we have that talk, okay? I love you more than you could ever know, love. –Mum_

I smile up at her and turn the page gently. It reads as follows:

_September 1st_

_Today I am going to Hogwarts! That's right, me, Hermione Jane Granger, is going to a school of witchcraft and wizardry! I'm a witch! Of course, I'll miss my friends from my old school a lot – I miss them already, and we've just left the train station. They don't know I'm a witch – Mum and Dad wouldn't let me tell them. So they just think I'm going to boarding school. Oh, some boy just came in my compartment. He looks dreadfully sad. I should ask him what's wrong._

_Later_

_The boy that came in was named Neville Longbottom (isn't that a funny name?) and he lost his pet toad, Trevor. So I offered to help him find it. And when I was searching the train, I came across two boys who are also beginning their first year at Hogwarts – and one of them was Harry Potter! _The_ Harry Potter! The other one – Ron Weasel or something like that – tried to impress me with some spell his older brother told him. It was supposed to turn his rat yellow, but nothing happened. So I showed him some _real_ magic. He wasn't very nice I don't think, but Harry Potter was alright. He seemed shy. Oh my, we're almost at the castle! I'll write more later!_

_Even Later_

_The Sorting Ceremony just ended – I was so nervous! I got put into Gryffindor though! I only have two other roommates – Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil, but they seem nice. Harry Potter and Ron … what's his last name again? It stars with a W. It sounds like Weasel, but that's not it! Oh well, Ron and Harry are in Gryffindor too. I met a ghost at the feast – his name was Sir Nicholas, and his head was nearly severed! Most people call him Nearly Headless Nick, but I don't think that's very nice (they call him nearly headless because his head was never completely cut off). Oh, Parvati is saying to put out my lamp because she wants to go to sleep. Good night._

I look up at Mum again and I see she's not the only one watching me. Mr. Weasley is watching me pretty carefully too, like he wants to know what I'm reading.

Setting the diary aside – I can tell I'm going to have fun reading that – I pick up the next gift. This one is from Professor Potter. I look up at him in surprise – I wasn't expecting anything from anyone else. He smiles and nods at me to open the gift. It's not a book, I know that. I unwrap it and grin at him. It's a chess set. Mum groans in mock-despair.

"Harry, now I'll _never_ win a chess game against her again!" she sighs, and nearly everyone laughs. I set the game down and reach for the next present. It's from Sean. Curious, I rip the paper off to reveal a book on Quidditch – paging through it, I see that it has information on all of the teams in Europe and America and then info on broom models. I smile at him – he knows I've been meaning to read up more about Quidditch ever since that first game. I've become nearly as crazy about it as Karen.

"Oh, don't tell me you like Quidditch too?" Mum sighs, still joking around. "I always lose don't I?" I grin at her, but I notice that Mr. Weasley's face clouds at her words, and I can't help but wonder why. But then I'm distracted by Jake shoving another present into my hands.

When I unwrap Jake's gift, I'm actually surprised. I was expecting a book or something practical from him – but it's nothing like that. It's a sweater. It's pink and it has little sparkles on it and buttons. I smile at him.

"Thank you," I say, and he grins.

"Ginny helped me out," he says. "I can't shop for girls."

I laugh and turn to Ginny. "Well maybe I should thank you then," I say, and she smiles at me.

The last present is from Mr. Weasley, which I definitely wasn't expecting. I've hardly ever spoken to him, and the few times I have, it was slightly awkward. Looking at him, I see he's pointedly watching Lily and Abby opening their presents on the floor near Ginny.

I unwrap this gift slowly, not at all sure what to expect. I open the box up carefully and set the lid down. Pulling aside the tissue paper, I feel my mouth drop open slightly. Nestled snugly in the mounds of tissue paper is a beautiful porcelain phoenix, painted with vibrant reds and golds. I lift it out of the box gently and it starts to emit a beautiful melody. For the second time this year, I smile at the hidden meaning in a musical gift. Apparently, Mum isn't the only one who's done her research on the meaning of names.

I turn the beautiful gift over and over in my hands as it continues to whistle the most beautiful sound I've ever heard. I look at the bottom. There's an inscription.

_Aria –_

_I know we haven't known each other very long, and I realize that this gift is a bit unique, but I wanted you to have it. You truly are your mother's daughter. I only hope that someday you'll see that you are just as much your father's daughter as well. Love._

He didn't sign it, but I don't suppose I'll ever forget who it's from. I look up at him. He's watching my face.

"Thank you so much," I whisper as the tune slowly fades away. "It's beautiful."

I notice Mum glaring at Mr. Weasley, but I don't really care if she thinks the present is too extravagant. I love it. The rest of the time is spent watching the little kids open their presents – they got way more than Jake, Sean, or I did, being younger and greedier, and more prone to jealousy. After every present is open, Ginny magicks the wrapping and boxes away and announces that we have one hour to get ready before we leave for her mum's house for Christmas with them. Everyone gets up, and we all head upstairs to clean up.

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Hermione's POV

I wait until Ron, Keira, Henry and I are the only ones left in the room before I speak. I'm furious at Ron right now. He's really crossed a line this time. I know I never told him he couldn't give Aria a Christmas present, but _that_? That had to cost more than all of the little kids' presents put together! Granted, it was very beautiful, and she obviously liked it, but that's not the point!

"Hermione, don't lecture me," Ron says wearily, picking up Henry and one of Henry's new toys. Keira shoots us a curious glance as she tidies up everyone's gifts into their respectful piles like Ginny did earlier. I still haven't actually had a chance to speak to Keira, unless you count asking her to pass the peas last night at supper.

"Ron, you know you shouldn't have gotten her that," I say, piling Aria's presents into a neat stack on the floor.

"Just because she doesn't know I'm her father doesn't mean I can't buy her a Christmas present. You bought all the other children Christmas presents, if I recall correctly," he snaps, bouncing Henry in his arms to keep him from fussing.

"That isn't what I mean," I tell him, wiping dust off of the cover of my old diary. I page through it carefully. Five and a half years at Hogwarts is recorded in this old book. I hold it against my chest protectively, half afraid he might try to take it away, but I know I'm being stupid.

"Hermione, I saw that and I liked it. Aria loved it – did you see her face?" he asks, sounding annoyed.

"Yes, I did, but it had to have cost a lot of money," I say uncomfortably.

"It doesn't matter how much it cost," Keira butts in suddenly, but she's not being rude. Her voice doesn't hold resentment, which surprises me, because I was under the impression that she didn't like me. "Ron loves Aria, you know that. It shouldn't matter how much it cost if she liked her gift."

I stare at this woman that I've never spoken to. This woman who – according to Ron, but when is Ron ever right? – was insanely jealous of me only a few short months ago. She understands. I don't know how she does, but she understands. Her eyes hold compassion that nearly bowls me over in shock. Ron looks back and forth between us in confusion.

"It _was_ awfully beautiful," I say reluctantly. "And Aria _did_ seem to like it. I think she caught the music reference – she loves that sort of thing."

Keira looks at me, sort of confused. Then her face flood with understanding. "Oh yes! Aria means melody doesn't it?"

"Quite literally," Ron answers with a small smile.

"Actually," I tell begin, and I see something change in Ron's eyes, "an aria _is_ a melody." Keira shrugs.

"Same thing," she says, sounding arrogant, but I can tell she's just kidding around. I smile at her.

"Well," Ron says, looking slightly confused. "This is definitely going under the category of 'weird'."

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Forty-five minutes later, everyone is gathered in Harry and Ginny's bedroom – which is _huge_ – in front of the fireplace. As soon as Henry sees Ginny disappear into the fireplace with Lily and Tristan in tow, he begins to cry. Aria told me she didn't think he liked Flooing too well. Ron tries to quiet Henry in vain. The little boy is inconsolable. He looks at me helplessly, and I sigh and hold my hands out for the toddler. Ron smiles gratefully as he puts the screaming little boy in my arms.

"Shh, now Henry," I murmur, and he looks up at me with wide brown eyes. "It's not so scary. Watch your daddy," I say, pointing out Ron, who's about to depart with Abby. He throws the Floo Powder into the fireplace and the green flames instantly jump up. Henry starts to cry again.

"No, it's okay. Look, Abby likes traveling by Floo Powder," I tell the little boy. He watches with interest as Ron shouts "The Burrow" and he and Abby disappear, Abby waving earnestly at her little brother. He waves back until they're gone in a whirl of green flames.

"And see, now Uncle Harry is going with Chanel," I tell him as Harry and Chanel step forward. Chanel actually wanted to go by herself, but Ginny wouldn't hear of it. Apparently, almost seven isn't old enough to travel by Floo Powder all alone.

The two of them disappear with Henry waving good-bye with both hands now, a big smile on his face. Next goes James with Drew following close behind. After that Jake disappears and Aria soon after. Sean says good-bye to his little brother before departing. Then it's only me, Henry, and Keira left in Harry and Ginny's very large bedroom.

"You're really good with him," Keira comments, trying to balance her purse, a box of cookies, and a giant bag of presents for all of George, Fred, Charlie, and Bill's kids.

"Thanks. Do you want me to take something?" I ask. holding out my spare arm. She smiles gratefully and hands me the box of cookies. Henry latches onto the box greedily, but Keira made sure to childproof it, so he doesn't succeed at much more than drooling on the box.

"You know, I was wrong about you," she says, handing the pot of Floo Powder out to me.

"What do you mean?" I ask, strategically grabbing a handful while balancing the cookies and Henry in one arm. It's very surprising how well you learn to balance things when you have no husband to hold the baby when you're trying to unlock your car door while struggling not to drop the cake you got for your mum's birthday – or worse, the baby. Of course once Aria got old enough, it was easier because she could hold onto me, and I had most of my arm free, but that's not the moral of this story!

"When Ron first got that letter from you, I thought you wrote to him because you wanted him back, but I was wrong. I wish I would have gotten to know you a bit sooner," she says, smiling. "You're a really great mum," she adds.

"So are you," I say, throwing the Floo Powder into the fireplace. Henry's eyes widen with sudden realization and his face starts to crumple. "Shh," I soothe him. "It'll be alright, I promise. It'll be fun! Just like Abby and Daddy did it," I tell him. He wraps his arms around my neck as if to say 'Alright, let's get this over with'.

What he really says is, "Bye-bye, Mummy!" as we step into the grate. He waves at her and she grins and waves back.

"The Burrow!" I say, and we head off. The whole way there, Henry's eyes are squeezed tight and his head is buried in my neck. I think he's trying really hard not to puke. Good thing we haven't eaten breakfast yet.

A few seconds later we stop spinning and I step out of the very familiar fireplace of the Burrow, my childhood best friend's home. I quickly remove the soot from both mine and Henry's clothing before proceeding to receive a very large hug from someone – I can only assume it's Mrs. Weasley.

"Mummy!" Henry squeals as Keira steps out of the grate. He reaches for her, and she sets down her things before taking him from me.

"Oh, Hermione, you look wonderful," Mrs. Weasley says, holding me an arm's length away. She scrutinizes me much like she used to when I was fourteen. "But you're thin, dear. Have you been eating enough?"

I look down at myself. She must be crazy if she thinks I'm thin. Look at Keira (who's had two more kids than I have) and you'll see thin. I'm just average. But Mrs. Weasley will be Mrs. Weasley, and if Mrs. Weasley think a person's thin, there's no arguing with her.

"Aunt Keira!" a small boy shouts, running over. I look down at him. He's the spitting image of Fred Weasley. I can only guess who he belongs to.

"Hermione?"

I turn to see Fred standing in the doorway with a small child in his arms. He's staring at me in astonishment. Apparently, no one was informed of my appearance at Christmas this year. I smile at Fred uncertainly, curious about his baby (what can I say? I'm a sucker for cute little kids). I recall Ron saying something about how Fred's wife left him with four kids – I didn't think he meant that any of them were still that little though.

"This is Claire," he says, noticing my gaze. He walks forward and shows me. She's sleeping, and she's tiny.

"How old is she?" I ask, amazed that any woman would be stupid enough to leave Fred Weasley alone with four children.

"About five months," he says.

"She's adorable," I say with a smile.

"Thanks. Say … that didn't happen to be … your daughter that just passed by here with two certain troublemakers did it?" he asks hesitantly.

"Yeah. That was Aria," I say. He raises his eyebrows at me in surprise. "Long story," I sigh. I look down at Claire again. She has a lot of thin brown hair and long brown eyelashes – not at all the usual Weasley red.

"She takes after her mum," he explains, grimacing slightly. I nod.

"Ron told me what happened," I say with a shrug.

"Yeah, I figured," he murmured. I smile at him sympathetically. "You wanna hold her?" he asks, holding out Claire carefully. I smile and nod. I haven't held a baby since Eva had her daughter – and I haven't seen baby Madison for weeks.

I take little Claire in my arms and hold her against me, feeling her little heartbeat on my hand. She's just adorable. I rock her gently as I stand there, and Fred gestures for me to follow him. We head into the living room where there is – miraculously – semi-quiet. It appears that – aside from the Potters, Ron's family, Aria and me, and Fred and his kids – no one has arrived yet. Then again, that's still a lot of kids. Between Harry and Ginny, Keira and Ron, Fred, and me, there are thirteen kids running around the Burrow. Gee, I really can't wait until the others get here.

"That's a good look for you," Harry jokes, seeing me with Claire. I notice Ron scowl at him from across the room. Apparently, Ron thinks I can't take a joke.

"Thanks. You wouldn't think so if you'd seen me the first few weeks after Aria was born," I joke back. "I was a wreck. She _never slept_," I say, remembering the awful first month with Aria. She'd wake up every two hours throughout the whole night, just screaming her little lungs out – I had to put silencing charms around the house so she wouldn't wake up the whole neighborhood. Again I notice Ron tense up, like he thinks I'm blaming him. Keira whispers something to him, and he relaxes slightly.

We spend the next few minutes like that, just talking like nothing ever happened. Then Claire wakes up and starts crying, so Fred takes her to the kitchen to get her a bottle.

Soon after that, a young boy, maybe six years old, runs into the room and tugs on one of Lily's braids. She immediately starts to cry, and the boy laughs and runs off, leaving absolutely no proof that he did anything. I watch him as he runs up behind Abby and pinches her before running away again, leaving the poor girl screeching. Then he trips little Tristan, who bumps his elbow on the leg of a chair and starts screaming, and he shoves Chanel, who falls down on top of Lily, who just stopped crying, but starts up again when her sister falls on top of her. And he manages to do this in the time frame of approximately twenty seconds. If I wasn't so mad, I'd be impressed.

Then the familiar, but slightly older face of Charlie Weasley appears in the room, and the little boy smiles up at him innocently amongst his screaming cousins.

"What did you do now?" Charlie sighs, taking hold of the boy's arm. He looks up at him and adopts a confused look.

"I didn't do anything!" he says indignantly. "I just walked in and they were all so eager to see me, they fell over on top of each other!"

"Very funny," Charlie said darkly. "Go into the kitchen and help Aunt Keira and Grandma with the cookies."

"I don't want to!"

"Go! Or I'll take you home and you won't get any presents for Christmas!" Charlie snarls. The boy narrows his eyes in anger, but obeys.

"He _is _a handful," I comment, remembering what Ron told me last summer. Charlie jumps and looks around. When he sees me, his eyes widen.

"Hermione Granger," he says, leaning against the doorframe. "I never thought I'd see the day where you stood in this living room again. What brought you back?" he asks.

"My daughter," I reply coolly. I never had anything against Charlie, but suddenly he's being annoyingly nosy.

His eyebrows raise in an uncannily similar way to Fred's. "Look, It's a long story, and I don't feel like telling it more than once, so if you're all so curious, I'll tell you all _later_," I say forcibly. Charlie nods.

"Even me?" Aria asks, sidling up beside me with a hopeful look. I look down at her and shake my head.

"No, not you."

"Why not?" she bursts out, suddenly angry. My, my, my, she's getting to be more and more like her lovely father every day.

"Because I already promised you I'd tell you at another time, remember?" I say sweetly, trying not to lose my temper with her.

"Summer is _ages _away!" she whines, her voice growing louder. "Why do you have to wait? You're just being selfish! Just because you're afraid I'll like him better!" she shouts, and I feel as if I've just been slapped. She throws me a dirty look before storming away up the stairs with two worried looking friends close on her heels.

I stare after her, my mouth hanging open. Either she overheard something, someone told her something, or she can read my mind. Probably the last one, because I know Ron and Harry haven't said anything, and no one else knows that little part of my secret.

"I imagine that was your lovely daughter?" Charlie asks, trying to hide the amusement in his voice. I glare at him.

"Stay out of this," I warn, heading toward the old armchair near the bookshelf where I used to spend many a summer hour reading. I sit down with a sigh and try to will temper to cool. I hate it when Aria yells at me like that. It makes me feel like a bad mother. I look down in surprise when I feel two little hands on my knees. I look down into the dark brown eyes of Henry Weasley, who is smiling up at me hopefully with a story book in his hand.

I smile back at him and lift him up onto my lap. He snuggles into the crook of my arm and plops the book down in front of us. I lift up the cover and start to read the well-known muggle story of Peter Pan. It's the Disney version, so the pictures are all from the movie, but he's two, so he probably doesn't care. Come to think of it, he's a wizard, so he probably doesn't even know what a movie is.

As I read the story to him, I notice him watching the pages intently, his eyes trained on the black printed words above the faded pictures. It's almost like he's trying to read, but I know he can't. He's too little. But every little kid likes to think they can read.

Ten minutes later, Henry is fast asleep in my arms, the book almost finished, but not quite. I look down at him sleeping peacefully, his body limp and heavy against my arm. I smile sadly when I remember that Aria was like this once. She used to love it when I read stories to her. We'd sit in that armchair she loved for hours, just reading and reading until my voice grew so hoarse I could scarcely talk. I wish she was still like this. So sweet and innocent. Not that angry girl who can't seem to decide whether she hates me or not.

I look up at the sound of footsteps near me. Ron is walking toward me with a glass of water. He smiles when he sees Henry fast asleep. "Looks like you found a friend," he comments, handing me a glass of water. I take it gratefully.

"He's a sweetheart," I say fondly, stroking the little boy's fiery hair out of his face. He shifts slightly in his sleep and sighs, burrowing further into the crook of my arm. I smile at him.

"Aria used to be like this," I add sadly. "She used to sit on my lap for hours, and we'd just read and read and read. And then she'd fall asleep and I'd tuck her into bed, and she'd usually wake up right as I was turning out the light and beg me to read her one more story before she went to sleep. And usually I did. Now she never wants to speak to me," I say softly, looking away.

"She's just hurt," he says knowingly, perching on the coffee table in front of the chair. I look over at him. "She doesn't understand why you won't tell her about her dad when you seem all too willing to tell people she considers complete strangers," he explains.

"But I've known you all for years," I argue.

"She doesn't know that. When she overheard you talking to Charlie, it probably sounded like you were willing to tell a complete stranger all about her father, but you wouldn't tell her – your own daughter."

"I messed up, huh?" I say bitterly, seeing his point. He sighs and nods.

"Yeah..."

I look at him and laugh. He grins back. "Ron?"

"Yeah."

"Truce?" I ask, offering him my hand. He looks at it, his face unreadable. Finally he smiles and takes my hand.

"Truce," he says, shaking my hand. He releases it and strokes his son's hair lovingly.

"Good to see you two have made up," Harry's voice floats over to us. He's standing in the doorway, watching us with a smile on his face. Keira is standing next to him with Claire in her arms, also smiling. Even Claire is smiling! Apparently, Ron and me making up is a big deal. Well, I guess it is in a way.

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Ron's POV

The next half hour is extremely noisy and busy. George and his wife Amy arrive with their two boys, and Charlie's wife Jessica arrives (she had to run to London for some last-minute shopping, but I'm not sure how much luck she had considering it's Christmas day and everything). Ten minutes after them Bill, Fleur, and their kids arrive, and then Dad gets home and just about every kid in the house runs to him to get a hug from Grandpa – and that's a lot of kids to hug!

Mum's cooking smells absolutely amazing, but I've been banished from the kitchen until lunch is served because I stuck my finger in the white sauce _once_ just to see if it tasted good! So now I'm sitting in the living room, trying to keep fifteen present-hungry little kids from going at the Christmas tree. The only civil ones are Aria, Jake, and Sean, although I can tell they want to open presents too (at least I know Jake and Sean do – I don't think Aria is actually expecting more presents, but as soon as they found out she was here, Fleur, Jessica, and Fleur headed off to some unknown region of the house with Fred, whispering anxiously).

It seems that Harry saved Hermione the trouble of having to tell everyone the story with Aria – he's already explained everything to everybody in the kitchen, even though Mum and Dad already knew because Harry told Ginny of Hermione's plan to get Aria here for Christmas, and Ginny can't keep a secret, so she told Mum and Dad to get it out of her system, knowing she couldn't very well tell me.

Right now Hermione is still sitting in that armchair she's loved since the first time she came here for summer vacation. Henry woke up when George arrived, but she hasn't moved. She's slowly becoming very popular with the little kids, who are all begging her to read them stories. Henry is still sitting on her lap, not allowing anyone else up there because he was there first and he likes Hermione best (only he can't pronounce her name so he calls her Mina, which I think is adorable – personally, I think it's much better than Hermy, which is what he was calling her at first until I persuaded him to call her otherwise, much to the relief of a very horrified Hermione).

"Alright, I'll read you a story! But Josh has to sit still," she says pointedly, staring straight at Charlie's troublesome son. Josh sits down automatically. Apparently he's really taken with Hermione. "And he has to be _good_," she adds sternly. "No poking, pinching, or hair-pulling." He nods obediently and I marvel again at this. I've never seen him like this – he's _always_ poking pinching and pulling hair! Usually it's Abby's hair that he's pulling, which usually gets him in big trouble with yours truly (that'd be me).

"Which story do you want to hear, Josh?" Hermione asks the already fidgeting boy. He shrugs. "C'mon, I bet you have a favorite story," she presses. He bites his lip and thinks for a bit.

"I like stories about Uncle Harry!" he declares finally. All of his cousins make noises of agreement. Everyone loves stories about Harry – even _I_ love stories about Harry, and I've known him since I was eleven years old!

Hermione pauses. "There's a lot of stories I could tell you," she muses. I chuckle to myself. No doubt about that. Stories practically lined up at Harry's door, just waiting to be fulfilled.

"Tell the one about us rescuing Sirius," Harry says from the doorway where he's holding Claire now – it seems that Claire is just getting passed from adult to adult every five minutes.

Hermione smiles slightly sadly, remembering Sirius. Everyone smiles like that when they remember Sirius – at least the people who knew him do. We all miss Sirius, even though it's been a long time since he died, and we've finally gotten used to the idea.

"Alright then," Hermione starts, just as Aria, Sean, and Jake come back downstairs. The three of them look over at her curiously and I'm suddenly struck by how much the three of them are like Harry, Hermione, and I were back when we were in school. They look at each other, shrug, and start over toward us.

Aria, Sean, and Jake sit down on the couch near me and Hermione begins the story. Even Josh is still for once.

"Well, we were in third year," Hermione begins as Harry walks toward us slowly so he doesn't trip on any toys. Claire just fell asleep again. "Ron's dad – your grandpa – had just won a large amount of money from the Ministry, so they all went to Egypt for the summer."

"What does this have to do with Uncle Harry?" Josh interrupts.

"You'll see," Hermione says patiently. "While they were in Egypt, Sirius Black was sitting in his cell in Azkaban–" she paused while they all gasped. "One day he saw the Minister of Magic passing through Azkaban–" she paused and looked at Jake in amusement, for he's sticking his hand in the air like he's at school. "Yes, Jake?"

"Why was the Minister of Magic just 'passing through' Azkaban?" he asks, looking confused.

"That's not important," Hermione says, starting to grow impatient. "Now, when he passed by Sirius' cell, Sirius saw that he had a paper with him, and he kindly asked him if he could borrow it. The Minister obliged, seeing as he'd already read the paper anyway." She sighs when Josh sticks his hand in the air. "Josh?"

"What does obliged mean?" he asks.

"It means he gave him the paper, dummy," Chanel says. "Now be quiet!"

"None of that now," I say to them, and Chanel scoots away from Josh so she's sitting closer to Hermione.

"Now, when Sirius looked at the paper, he saw a picture of Ron's family on the front page, all waving from Egypt. And on Ron's shoulder was his pet rat, Scabbers. Meanwhile, at his aunt and uncle's house, Harry was sitting down to dinner with his aunt, uncle, cousin, and his uncle's sister."

"Finally," Josh mutters.

"Harry never liked Uncle Vernon's sister Marge, did you Harry?" Hermione asks Harry. He shakes his head vigorously no. "No. Do you want to tell this part of the story, Harry?" Hermione asks. "I'm sure you'll do a better job than me."

Harry shrugs and hands me Claire just in case he feels the need to use his hands in his descriptions of how he blew up his aunt Marge. "Well, like Hermione said, we were sitting down to dinner, and I only had a few more days left before I could leave my aunt and uncle for school, and if I didn't do anything awful to Aunt Marge, my uncle would sign the permission form that allowed me to go to Hogsmeade on weekends. Marge of course, found it highly amusing to say horrible things about my family to try to get me mad, so every time she started talking to me, I'd think about the broom service kit Ron got me for my birthday so I'd have something else to concentrate on.

"Well, I had maybe three days left at that house. We were at dinner, and Aunt Marge started talking about my parents like they were scum and awful people and I … blew up."

"Literally?" Sean asks, looking hopeful. Harry laughs.

"No, not literally. I just got so mad that I did a bit of … uncontrolled magic. Instead of blowing up myself, I blew up Aunt Marge." Everyone burst out laughing, even Hermione, who, as I recall, was highly disapproving the last time Harry told this story.

"Lunch is ready!"

"We'll finish the story later," Hermione promises as everyone jumps up. We all head to the kitchen where a delicious aroma is making my mouth water hungrily.

Lunch goes very smoothly. For once, Josh doesn't flick a single vegetable at anyone (I think it's because Hermione insisted that he sit next to her, and he seems to have decided that Hermione is really quite alright), and the pumpkin juice was only spilt once. Everyone chatted happily, and I managed to keep a steady flow of conversation up with Hermione without getting even the slightest bit annoyed at her once. It was a very productive meal.

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After lunch, Amy, Fleur, Jessica, Keira, Hermione, and my mum banishes everyone from the kitchen while they clean up, and the have forbidden us from going anywhere near the Christmas tree (Hermione put a shield around it herself) until they are finished.

So we all go back into the living room and Harry takes up the story where we left off before lunch.

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Hermione's POV

In the kitchen, we talk about simple things while we clean up everything and put away leftovers. We purposefully avoid the topic of Aria, seeing as just about everyone has already heard about her blowing up at me in front of Charlie earlier. News spreads just as quickly in this house as it does in Hogwarts. Only it's easier here, because there are less floors the gossip has to travel up.

Aria has gotten over her latest bout of hatred toward me, and is currently playing chess with Ron – the sight makes me feel extremely guilty. Her forehead is creased in concentration, and so far, neither of them have lost any pieces. I pause to watch them curiously.

"She looks just like him," Keira whispers in my ear. I jump and look at her. She's staring at them too.

"I know," I sigh. "It's frustrating."

"Why don't you just tell her?"

"I just can't yet. It's complicated," I say, knowing that it's not really complicated at all. I'm just too selfish to share my daughter yet.

"Look, I'm only going to say this once, and if I'm crossing any lines, I'm sorry," she starts. "But I'm sure you know that Ron isn't Sean's real dad." I nod. "All I'm saying is that if Sean ever showed interest in learning about his biological father, I'd tell him anything he wanted to know – so long as I could remember it. He deserves to know. It's not my place to be selfish," she says quietly. I shrug, and she walks away, leaving me to examine myself and my selfishness.

**

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A/N:** An extra long Christmas Chapter Ten!!! Next chapter is present time (again)! It took me nearly four hours to write this, so you better like it (that is not a threat)! Anyway, please review because I worked really hard on this chapter! Love you all! Thank you to all my wonderful reviewers thus far! 


	11. Christmas Part II

**Disclaimer**: Roses are pretty, so are antiques, I don't own HP, but this plot is unique! (And it's MINE! lol)

**A/N**: Okay, so I got lots of encouraging reviews for last chapter (which is great, because it gives me the willpower to write another chapter), so I thought I'd try to get this out as soon as possible. Sorry it didn't get out right away – my internet was being stupid and wouldn't open any websites, so I couldn't upload, but it's fixed now! Happy reading everyone! Enjoy the conclusion of Christmas (though not necessarily the holiday vacation).

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**Chapter Eleven: Christmas – Part II**

Ron's POV

Playing chess with Aria is weird. The only time she speaks is when she's ordering her chess pieces around, and so far she hasn't looked at me once. I think she's afraid of me or something.

"So, how's school?" I ask, trying to get a conversation going. She just shrugs. "What's your favorite subject?" I press.

She glances up at me. She shrugs again, and it's funny how she can be so opposite of Hermione at times. Hermione, who hates it when people shrug their shoulders at her, raised a daughter who does nothing but. You can't miss the irony there.

"C'mon, I bet you have a favorite subject," I insist. She shrugs yet again and looks away. I have to wonder what she's thinking when she does that. She reminds me so much of Hermione.

"Defense Against the Dark Arts," she mutters at last. I'm actually a bit surprised. I was expecting her to say something like Charms or Transfiguration or somewhere you need to use your wand a lot – those were the kind of classes Hermione enjoyed. But Defense? Well, I guess I liked Defense alright with some of our teachers – but a couple of them were horrible. Maybe that's why I wasn't so taken with it – we had a different teacher every year.

"How come?" I ask, unable to help myself. She looks back at the chess board and doesn't answer. Instead she orders her knight to capture my castle. I look at her with mock-outrage. "Hey now!" I protest, and she grins at me. I feel my heart skip a beat when she smiles. I don't know that I've ever seen her smile at me like that. It's the kind of smile Hermione used to have on her face whenever she'd just beaten me at something I was usually better than her at.

"I like Professor Potter," she says conversationally, glancing at Harry. It takes me a minute to realize that she's answering my previous question. I look around at Harry too. He's sitting in what I've come to call Hermione's armchair, still telling the story of how he and Hermione broke all sorts of laws to save Buckbeak and Sirius. All the little kids are gathered around him, spellbound. Even Josh is sitting still, listening intently. Like I said before, everyone loves stories about Harry Potter.

"Yeah?" I ask, turning back to Aria as my rook inches into the perfect position to capture her queen next turn. She notices this however, and the queen escapes to safety.

"Yeah, he's really nice. He's always extra nice to me for some reason though," she says, her eyes downcast. Something clicks inside my head. She couldn't possible think that Harry …? Nah… I mean, they look nothing alike! She wouldn't honestly think that he's her … I mean _I'm_ her… No. I'm being stupid.

"Why do you think?" I ask, knowing that if I don't get an answer from her it'll drive me nuts. She glances up at me, and I can see in her eyes that she knows I know (or I think I do anyway).

"Well … you promise you won't laugh?" she asks, looking at me uncertainly. I realize how difficult this must be for her. I mean, I'm virtually a complete stranger to her. I've known her for maybe a week, and I'm her best friend's dad. It must be a little awkward talking to me. Not to mention she must think that her mum is terrified of me. Or that her mum hates me or something.

"I swear on the entire Chudley Cannon Quidditch Team that I will not laugh at you," I promise. She laughs softly. Sean must have told her how much I love the Cannons. I mean, they _are_ the best team in the whole world (okay not really, but I still like them).

"Okay… Well at the beginning of the school year, I … well, I um…" she trails off, her face flushing slightly. Sean was right – that _is _a Weasley-worthy blush! But all that aside, I can see how awkward this is for her. She obviously wants to tell someone though, I can see that in her eyes. She wants to tell someone because she doesn't know if it's true or not.

"You don't have to tell me," I say softly, which I know will make her want to tell me even more. I know how much she wants – no _needs _– to tell someone.

"I thought he was my father," she mutters, refusing to look at me. Even though I knew that's what she was going to say, I'm still a little surprised. The crueler part of me wants to laugh at her, but I don't. Children don't like being laughed at.

"Is that so?" I ask. She looks up at me sharply, and I almost jump at the look in her eyes. That's one hundred percent Hermione there. Wow that's scary. I used to hate it when Hermione glared at me like that.

"You promised not to laugh," she says accusingly. I hold out my hands in defense.

"I didn't," I assure her. She continues to eye me suspiciously, but I keep my face straight – something I've practiced doing a lot lately I've noticed.

"But now I don't think he is," she continues softly, stealing a glance at Harry. Lily and Chanel have crawled up into his lap, and Lily looks in serious danger of falling asleep right there.

"How come?" I ask, looking down at her again. Our chess game seems to have been momentarily forgotten, and it looks like the pieces are getting annoyed.

"Because Mum always says I look like my dad, but I don't look anything like Professor Potter," she says with a shrug. "She says I have my dad's eyes, and Professor Potter's eyes are green, not blue. Mum says my hair's sort of like his, but Professor Potter's hair is black. So it wouldn't make any sense if he was," she concludes, and I'm impressed that she figured all of this out. My heart clenches when I realize that while she obviously has an easy time figuring out who _isn't_ her father, she still hasn't acquired the skills to figure out who _is_.

"Well, I hate to say this, but you're right about that," I tell her, and she looks up at me again. Her eyes – my eyes – are full of a longing. She _wants_ to know. She wants _me_ to tell her.

"I wish I could tell you," I whisper, answering her unasked question. She sighs and looks away again.

"Nobody's ever going to tell me," she murmurs, and I notice tears swimming in her eyes. I want to take her up in my arms and hug her, but I know that wouldn't be acceptable. For one, she hardly knows me, and Hermione would absolutely kill me.

"Your mum will tell you when the time is right," I say softly. She shakes her head and tears start sliding down her cheeks.

"That's what she says," Aria says quietly. "She's said that before. 'I'll tell you when you're older' 'Someday I'll tell you anything you want' 'This summer, I promise'. She always makes excuses when the time finally comes. She's just scared that I won't love her anymore if I actually know something – anything – about my dad. I've never even seen a picture of him or heard his name!"

"Oh, Aria," I sigh. She looks at me once more, tears still falling down that face that I've already come to love. I've known her hardly a week, but I never want to let go of her. I'm afraid if I do, I'll never see her again.

"I just want a father," she says, burying her face in her hands. I do what I know I shouldn't do. Every fiber of my being is screaming at me not to get up. It's not my place. But I ignore all the warnings, much like I did that day way back in September when I went to visit Hermione. I stand up and walk around the table between us. Kneeling down in front of her, I take her hands in mine. She jumps and looks at me, still crying.

"I know," I murmur. She shakes her head at me.

"You don't know."

"You're right. I don't know what it's like to miss someone so much, even though I've never met them. But I do know what it's like to miss some one so much, your heart aches until you can hardly stand it anymore. I know what it's like to love someone so much that when they're not there anymore, you feel like your life is going to end. I know what it's like to love someone who just isn't there," I say, knowing that if Hermione could hear me, she'd kill me. But it's just me and Aria now. It's as if everything and everyone else in the world has faded away.

Aria's face crumples and she takes her hands back from me, covering her face again as she cries. I lean forward and hug her. She stiffens almost instantly, and her crying stops for a second or two. But then she seems to decide that I'm okay and she breaks out with fresh sobs. She never touches me – like I said, I think she's a bit afraid of me – but she allows me to hug her, and while she remains stiff in my arms, she leans against me as she cries. For the first time, I feel as if I've done something right for my firstborn daughter.

-.-.-.-

Hermione's POV

Still in the kitchen, I don't speak to anyone as I continue to help put things away. Keira's words still ring in my ears, but she doesn't say anything of that sort to me again. The others make small talk, and everyone exchanges stories about their kids. I don't join in.

I pause at the kitchen doorway again. What I see makes the breath catch in my throat and my heart nearly stops. Aria's crying. Why's she crying? Ron is sitting there with her, holding her as she cries. I feel a surge of jealousy, mixed with gratitude – a strange combination to be sure. Jealousy because Aria is _my_ daughter, and Ron has no right to hold her – as I've made perfectly clear. But gratitude because – just like when we were kids – Ron holds no respect for rules. And as strange as it is, I'm grateful that he ignored my requests – no, commands – to leave Aria alone. He really is a great father.

"Just tell her," Keira says in my ear once again. I look over at her. Every time we speak, I find that I have more and more in common with this woman.

"I _can't_," I insist, feeling tears press against the back of my eyes. She rolls her eyes at me, but I don't mind for once. She has every right to be annoyed.

"Look at her, Hermione," she says, directing my attention to Aria and Ron again. "Just look at her."

"I'm looking," I say tersely. "What am I supposed to be seeing?"

"Look at the two of them together. Forget that Aria's your daughter for a minute. Forget the grudge you hold against Ron for whatever reason you have, alright? Just forget you even know them. Now _what do you see_?"

I try what she's describing. I let go of the jealousy and anger I hold toward Ron. I let go of my concern for Aria. I forget that I ran away. I let go of everything and allow myself to look at the two of them sitting there together with an outsider's perspective.

"I see a girl who's obviously very upset about something," I start uncertainly. Keira nods encouragingly. "And a man – obviously her father, they look so much alike – holding her, wanting to comfort her."

"What else?"

"What else?" I echo, confused now.

"What kind of emotions do you see?" she asks. I briefly wonder if she's some sort of counselor or therapist.

I look at Ron and Aria again. I can't see Aria's face – her hands are covering it for one, and she's facing away from me. Ron is holding her against him, stroking her hair silently, his face a mask of many confusing emotions. His eyes, which are staring blankly at the floor, are full of sadness, yet he looks as if he's been waiting to do this forever. He looks so sad, but happy at the same time, if that makes any sense. I try to describe this to Keira. She nods at what I'm saying as if she sees it too.

Suddenly Ron blinks and looks up at the two of us standing there. He starts slightly, but he doesn't move. I just look at him, not really sure what I'm feeling at the moment. He hugs Aria to him, as if protecting her from me. His eyes have a defiant look in them, just daring me to try to take her away. Even if I wanted to, I wouldn't. Ron deserves this. He's been trying so hard to stay away.

I nod at him, and he continues to stare. I can see he understands that I'm alright with this. His eyes shift over to rest on Keira, who smiles slightly at her husband. I feel a chord in my chest tighten. I don't belong here. I look at Ron and Aria, and then back at Keira. My heart clenches as I realize it. Keira looks at me, and we lock eyes. Her face becomes confused, but I look away before she can scrutinize whatever it was she saw in my eyes.

-.-.-.-

Aria's POV

"Alright! Alright, we can open presents!" Professor Potter practically screams after being bombarded by little kids begging him to take the shield from around the tree. Mum comes out of the kitchen with her wand already out. She glances at me and smiles, and then she smiles at Sean's dad, who's still sitting near me.

"Who wants to open presents?" Mum asks in a sing-song voice. All the kids scream 'me' at the same time. Mum smiles and takes down the shield she conjured around the tree. Then, with the help of Professor Potter and Sean's mum, she starts handing out the presents to their respectful owners according to the names on the packages. I'm impressed that she can remember everyone's names. There are so many of them! I can hardly remember the names of Professor Potter's kids, let alone all the rest of them!

"Aria," Sean's mum says. I look up at her expectantly. She's holding out a brightly wrapped package to me. Surprised, I get up and take it from her. I wasn't actually expecting more presents – I wasn't even expecting presents from Professor Potter's family, and here I'm getting gifts from people I don't even know. I feel awkward, knowing I didn't even think about getting anything for anyone else.

When everyone has their presents, I don't feel so guilty. Out of everyone, I have the least amount, which is perfectly okay with me. I wouldn't have wanted a lot anyway. I hardly know anyone here. Abby sits down on the floor beside me with her very large pile of presents. She grins at me and crawls into my lap. I smile. I've never had any younger siblings, and Meghan and Jess's little brothers and sisters are just annoying. It feels nice having someone look up to me.

"Alright, go ahead," Mrs. Weasley says. Um… maybe I should specify, since there are about five Mrs. Weasleys here today. The oldest Mrs. Weasley. You know, everyone's grandma.

All the kids tear into the presents greedily. I watch Mum as she unwraps presents from Professor Potter, Sean's parents, Sean's grandparents, and all of Sean's uncles. I open up the first present on the top of the pile. It's from Bill and Fleur – the ones from France. It's a jacket. Fur-lined with beautiful wooden buttons engraved with fancy carvings. I look up at Fleur, who is watching me expectantly.

"Thank you," I say politely. "It's really beautiful." She smiles, looking relieved as if she wasn't sure I'd like it. Abby strokes the fur inside the coat gently, and I drape the coat over her. She giggles and pulls it around her. It's several sizes too big, which makes her look awfully funny.

The next gift is from Sean's uncle Percy. I open it slowly and carefully. Inside is a book. Big surprise there. But I like books, so I don't mind. I glance at the title. It's a wizarding novel – I can tell it's not muggle because the picture on the cover is moving – but I've never heard of it. Some story about a man who tames a unicorn or something… I dunno. I smile at Percy.

"Thanks," I say. He nods and smiles back. The next gifts are from Sean's uncles Charlie and George. The one from Charlie is another book – this one is about Quidditch, and the one from George is a small plastic card that reads:

**Weasley's Wizard Wheezes**

**Joke Shop**

**Diagon Alley, London**

**This gift card is good for 5 galleons worth of joke shop merchandise from the ****Weasley's Wizard Wheezes**** in Diagon Alley, London.**

**To: ****Aria Granger**

**From: ****George Weasley**

I look over at him and grin. I caught a brief glimpse of the joke shop during our trip to Diagon Alley last fall, but Mum wouldn't let me go inside. Mum catches my smile and looks at George suspiciously. He smiles at her innocently.

I store the gift card inside the cover of the book from Charlie, and pick up the last gift, which is from Mrs. Weasley (Sean's grandma). It's in a slim, squarish box. I rip off the wrapping paper curiously. The box is taped shut, and I slit open the tape carefully. I slip my fingers into the box and feel cool metal edges of something. I slide it out gingerly.

It's a framed photograph. I look at it curiously. It's of Mum with Professor Potter and Sean's dad. They're sitting outside somewhere, and the sky is streaked with pinks and reds and golds and oranges, purples, and blues. It's obviously near sunset, and they're all dressed up. Mum's hair is piled up on top of her head in intricate curls that are most definitely held together by a whole lot of hairspray and magic. Her dress is a light pink color with thin shoulder straps and a thick sash at the waist tied slightly to the side in the back in a complicated looking bow. Professor Potter is dressed in dark green dress robes, and Sean's dad is in blue. Both of the boys' robes bring out the color of their eyes, which I think is neat.

Behind them there are people dancing and laughing, and there are fairy lights all over the garden they're in, just visible in the twilight. There's white and gold everywhere, and I near the edge of the picture is a couple I recognize as Bill and Fleur. Fleur is wearing an extremely extravagant white dress with tiny beading done all over. It's obviously their wedding. Mum, Professor Potter, and Sean's dad are smiling at the camera almost too brightly. Professor Potter's smile doesn't quite reach his eyes. His eyes are dark and sad. Sean's dad just looks tired. Mum looks genuinely happy with Sean's dad and Professor Potter's arms around her on both sides, but she also looks tired.

"I thought I'd never see this picture again," someone behind me whispers. I jump slightly and turn to see Mum behind me with tears in her eyes. She sits down beside me and touches the glass with trembling fingers as if to make sure it's real. "I thought all copies were destroyed in…" she stops and looks up at Sean's grandma, who smiles at Mum like she'd smile at her own daughter.

"Open this," she says to Mum, holding out a book-shaped gift. Mum takes it uncertainly. She tears off the paper to reveal a red leather cover with the word 'Memories' stamped on the front in gold lettering. Mum opens the book with quivering hands.

"Thank you so much," she whispers, her voice choked with tears. "You have no idea what this means to me."

-.-.-.-

Hermione's POV

The photo album is like an offering of another chance. A way of Molly saying she forgives me for breaking her youngest son's heart and leaving him with nothing but sadness and confusion. An offering of peace. These pictures – pictures I thought I would never see again – are a portal back to my childhood. I look at the pictures of Harry, Ron, and myself from when we were just kids – eleven, twelve years old. But as we grow older in the photos, things change. Most of the pictures of all three of us have Ron glaring or Harry looking sad or me just looking annoyed with my gaze directed straight at Ron. But the pictures from Bill and Fleur's wedding – pictures I thought were lost to the war when the Burrow was nearly burned to the ground – are the most precious to me. These are the last pictures of all three of us ever taken. I'd nearly forgotten about them.

I think back to the morning Ron and I argued on the staircase in Harry's house. We were looking at the picture of the three of us from after Dumbledore's funeral and I'd been thinking that _that_ was the last picture of all three of us ever taken. I'd completely forgotten about Bill and Fleur's wedding.

There are only two pictures of all three of us from the wedding – one is the same one that Aria got from Molly, only smaller so it fits in the album. The other one is the three of us at the reception dinner – which was in the backyard of the Burrow. Everyone is sitting at round tables meant for six, but Harry, Ron, and I are the only ones at our table. We're talking and laughing, and Ron and I aren't even glaring at each other for once. That night was almost like a dream. It was the last night we ever had together before the war when we were at peace. That night, it was like everything just went away – the war, the death, the pain, the fear – and all that was left was happiness. That night, we were free.

The other pictures from the wedding show Harry and Ginny dancing, and then Harry and me dancing, and Ginny dancing with Bill, laughing. There are pictures of the Weasleys talking and eating and laughing and dancing. There are pictures of me trying to convince one of Bill's friends from work to ask one of Fleur's friends to dance. There's a picture of Fleur's sister begging Harry to dance, and the next picture is of the two of them dancing with Ginny glaring at her from nearby.

I turn the pages, and the faces of all the people I love – minus Mum and Dad, since they weren't invited – stare back at me with smiles and laughs lighting up their features. I turn to the last page of the album, and the tears in my eyes start to fall. Aria tries to look, but I jerk it away from her and stand up. A protest is forming on her lips, but Molly gives her a look and she closes her mouth.

The last two photographs are pictures I was sure were completely and utterly destroyed. I half expected that they wouldn't even be in this album. The last time I saw these pictures, they were in a hundred little pieces all over the floor of my parents' old house right after Death Eaters broke in and destroyed just about every important memoir of my days at Hogwarts – photos, papers, letters, school supplies – and other parts of my childhood. The entire house was just ransacked and destroyed – we were lucky it was still standing when the Aurors finally got to it.

The first picture is of Molly and me. She's standing behind me with her arms around me, pinning my arms to my sides and her cheek is pressed against mine. I'm laughing and grinning at the camera – I remember that it was Ron who snapped the picture. Molly is grinning as well, and I feel my heart clench. She was so wonderful to me then. She loved me like I was her own daughter and she always made sure that I felt like I belonged here at the Burrow with everyone else.

The second picture is of Ron and me dancing during the very last song of the night. I knew he'd been working up the courage to ask me all night, and finally he'd just spit it out. I said yes without hesitation, so he wouldn't be embarrassed. We'd danced and danced, just looking in each other's eyes. And at the end of the song, he did something that made my heart nearly explode with shock. He kissed me.

-.-.-.-

Harry's POV

Hermione's tears flow freely looking at those pictures of her and Molly and her and Ron. We'd all been so sure Ron and Hermione would end up married someday after seeing them together that night. But as fate would have it, Hermione disappeared only a couple of months after the end of the war, and we never saw her again. We all just assumed something had happened between her and Ron, but Ron said they hadn't argued for weeks. He was devastated when she left.

I exchange a smile with Keira. We both knew that this was a good thing we'd agreed to help Molly make for Hermione as a surprise. We'd all pooled together the best photographs we could find of Hermione, Ron, and me from our school days. How Keira managed to do this without Ron finding out is beyond me.

"You knew about this didn't you?" Ron hisses in my ear. I grin at him and he shakes his head as Keira laughs. "You two are conspiring against me."

"Of course we are, dear," Keira says, kissing Ron's cheek. He smiles at her lovingly and I find myself wishing it were Hermione he was smiling at right now. Then I hit myself mentally. Ron _loves_ Keira! Of course, he loves Hermione too, but I don't think Hermione honestly expects him to ever go back to her – she wouldn't let him even if he wanted to. Not because she doesn't love him (it's so obvious she does), but because she wouldn't allow him to desert his family. She wouldn't want him to put anyone through the same thing she put Ron through all those years ago.

Hermione comes over to the three of us sitting there. She stands in front of us, wipes away her tears, and looks at us, expressionless, the photo album still in her hand.

"Thank you," she whispers. She sits down beside me and hugs me. I smile and hug her back. I've missed this side of Hermione. She turns around and hugs Keira too, who seems a bit shocked at first, but quickly comes to her senses and hugs Hermione back. Hermione looks over at Ron, who's looking as if he'd like a hug too.

"I don't think I can really thank _you_," she says with a laugh. "Seeing as you didn't contribute any."

"I _took_ some of those pictures," he says indignantly, but when Hermione smiles, he can see she's just joking.

"This is a great gift," she says, hugging him quickly. "Thank you."

"It was Molly's idea," I say, and Hermione nods.

"I know, but you two helped. And I suppose Ron helped a bit, since he _took_ some of the pictures!" she mimics, making Ron smile.

"Well I did," he says with a laugh.

Keira rolls her eyes and smiles at him. She leans over and kisses him again. "Yes, dear. You did a great job at contributing to Hermione's gift."

Hermione laughs, and I feel almost as if we're all seventeen again. I feel as though time has reversed and we're sitting around for Christmas more than thirteen years ago, laughing and joking like nothing has ever gone wrong in our lives. If only that were so.

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**A/N**: There you go! That's the end of Christmas! The holiday vacation ends in the next chapter, and then we'll see where it goes from there. Thanks for reading! I'll have chapter twelve up as soon as I get done with it – I've already started working on it! Cheers!


	12. Back to School

**Disclaimer**: The winter is cold and the summers are hot. Jo owns Harry, and I most certainly do not. (Damn it!)

**A/N**: Oh my gosh you guys! I got _thirteen_ reviews for last chapter!! Great job! I love all of my reviewers! You're all amazing!! Please keep up the good work!

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**Chapter Twelve: Back to School**

Aria's POV

The last night of Christmas break, we're all gathered in a sitting room on the second floor (it isn't the same one we were in on the first night, nor the one that we used for Christmas, but it's still extremely comfortable – whatever Professor Potter did before he became a teacher at Hogwarts must have made him one rich man, because I can't imagine he can afford all this on a teacher's salary). Mum and Professor Potter are playing chess – Mum's losing miserably of course – and Sean and Jake are running around the house playing hide-and-seek with Abby, Chanel, Lily, James, and Drew. Henry and Tristan are playing on the floor near Mum and Professor Potter, and Sean's parents are sitting on the couch together, whispering quietly to each other with serious looks on their faces.

I get up from my chair and wander toward the bookshelves in the back of the room, feeling restless. I can feel someone's eyes on my back, but I don't turn around to see who it is. I skim the titles of Professor Potter's books. Most of them are about Defense Against the Dark Arts or history, but a few of them are about Quidditch. I keep looking. My eyes run across one of the shelves, and then backtrack slightly. A photo album. Or what looks like one anyway.

"Feel free to read anything you find," Professor Potter calls over, seeing my hesitation. I glance around the room. No one's looking. Quickly I grab the photo album and hurry back to the loveseat I was lounging on earlier. Settling into it, I open the album up on my lap.

The first few pictures are of young versions of my mum, Professor Potter, and Sean's dad. I page through the pictures, watching as my mum grows older alongside her two best friends. I pause at a picture of Professor Potter when he's about fourteen. He's on his broom – a Firebolt, which was a really good model back then – and he's dodging flames. The picture continues to move and a dragon flies into the photo. Professor Potter does complicated-looking loops and dives and twists and turns on his broom, trying to avoid the angry dragon. I wonder what this was for.

"That was the Triwizard Tournament." I look up to see Sean's dad standing beside me. Weird how people always manage sneak up on me like that.

"What's that?" I ask, sliding over so he can sit down. Mum and Professor Potter glance over at us, unreadable expressions on their faces.

"It's a tournament that takes place very rarely. Three schools from different places gather at one place and one person from each school is chosen as champion. The three champions compete in three extremely difficult tasks in order to win "eternal glory" as Dumbledore put it," he says. "And a lot of gold," he adds with a laugh. I smile.

"So … Professor Potter was the Hogwarts champion?" I ask, feeling slightly horrified. I'd never want to do anything like that!

"Well ... you have to understand that trouble just seems to follow Harry around," he says with a grin. I smile again. "See, the people who make up the rules for the tournament decided that no one under seventeen years of age would be allowed to submit their name to the Goblet of Fire, which is what chose the champions."

"He doesn't look seventeen in this picture," I tell him pointedly. He chuckles and shakes his head.

"He's not."

"Then how does he get into the tournament?" I demand.

"Well, like I said. Trouble just manages to find Harry like those birds manage to find south every winter. I don't know how. Turns out, someone was out to get Harry, and they put his name in the Goblet of Fire and performed some dark magic to trick it into making him Hogwarts champion – or one of them anyway."

"I thought the schools only had one champion?" I question, confused now. He nods.

"Right, which is why it took a lot of dark magic to trick the Goblet of Fire into thinking that Hogwarts could have two champions."

"Okay…" I say, still not really getting it.

"Yeah. So Harry was the youngest one out of a whole bunch of seventeen-year-olds. This was the first task," he says, going back to the picture. "The object was to get the golden egg that the dragon was guarding – not so easy when the dragon is overly protective of her eggs."

"Scary!" I exclaim, just thinking about it. "But what if someone got hurt? Or _died_?" I ask. He smiles at me.

"That's why it's hardly ever done. People do die in the tournament. I think that's why some are so tempted to try it – there's such a great risk involved," he says with a shrug. I glance at Professor Potter, whose face has paled slightly.

"Did anyone die last time?" I ask quietly so Professor Potter can't hear. Sean's dad looks at me with serious eyes.

"Unfortunately," he murmurs.

"Who?" I ask, amazed and horrified at the same time. How awful! Why would anyone want to participate in a tournament that could cost you your life? All for fame and a sack of gold!

"The other Hogwarts champion," he says in a whisper. "Cedric Diggory."

"Who were the other two champions?" I ask curiously. He flips a page in the photo album and a newspaper clipping is stuck in there. In the picture is Professor Potter, who is obviously the youngest one there. On the far right is a burly guy who isn't really smiling, but looks as if he'd be an alright person. Between Professor Potter and the other guy is a guy wearing Hogwarts robes. He's extremely good-looking and he's smiling kind of smugly. That must be Cedric. Sitting in front of them all in a chair with her long hair pulled back away from her face is none other than Fleur Weasley – of course this was probably before she was married, so her last name was probably something French.

"Fleur?" I question, pointing at the picture. Sean's dad nods.

"That's how Bill and Fleur met," he says. "When my family came to Hogwarts to watch the final task. They got engaged hardly two years later."

I turn more pages in the picture album. There's a picture of Mum, Professor Potter, and Sean's dad sitting on a wooden platform with thick towels around them, completely drenched. I look at it questioningly.

"What was this for?" I ask.

"That was the second task. The four champions had to swim to the bottom of the lake and retrieve what meant to them the most," he says.

"And that was you and Mum?"

"No, it was just me," he says with a laugh. "Your mum was the object of meaning to Victor Krum here," he says, pointing at the unsmiling guy from the newspaper photo. "They went to the Yule Ball together," he adds, his tone changing ever so slightly. I look carefully at Victor Krum. He's not very handsome. I wonder why Mum liked him?

"Why did Mum like _him_?" I ask softly so Mum won't hear. Mr. Weasley laughs.

"Well, any other girl would've gone for him because he was one of the best seekers in Europe. I think you mum liked him because he wasn't overly obnoxious and he liked her because she was bookish."

"Weird," I mutter, turning to the next page. These pictures are from the Yule Ball, which should have actually come before the second task pictures, but Professor Potter obviously doesn't care if his pictures are in chronological order or not.

Professor Potter and Mr. Weasley are sitting at a table with two identical girls near them, looking annoyed. Probably their dates.

"That's Padma and Parvati Patil," he says, pointing each of them out. "They were our dates for the ball, but I don't think they had much fun."

"And there's Mum and Victor Krum," I say, pointing them out amongst other dancing couples. Ginny is there too, but I don't recognize the person she's dancing with.

"Who's that?" I ask.

"Neville Longbottom. He was in our year. A bit clumsy, but he was an alright bloke," he says with a shrug.

I turn some more pages. There are more pictures from the ball, and then some pictures of tall hedges growing in the Quidditch pitch.

"What did they do to the pitch?" I gasp. The poor Quidditch pitch! Mr. Weasley laughs again.

"That was Harry's initial reaction as well," he comments. "That was for the third task. That was when Cedric died," he said in an undertone. "But that's a long and sad story, and I'm not going to go into details."

The rest of the pictures are of the Weasleys sitting in the stands while they waited for the task to end. Mum's there too, looking anxious and worried.

The last picture is of Harry with the Triwizard Cup in his hands, smiling slightly sadly. He doesn't look like he's happy about winning at all – then again, I wouldn't be happy either if someone else died in the process.

"Bed," Mum calls over to me. I look at the clock on the wall. It's already eleven o'clock! I hand the photo album to Mr. Weasley. He smiles at me.

"Good night, Aria," he says.

"Night," I answer. I get up and go over to Mum. She stands and hugs me tightly.

"I love you," she says, kissing me on the cheek. "Be good tomorrow for Ron and Keira. I'll see you in June, alright?" she says. Tears suddenly spring to my eyes. I want to get back to school, but I'll miss Mum. I enjoyed spending the last few weeks with her.

"Love you," I mumble, hugging her. She kisses me on the forehead and gives me one more hug.

"See you soon," she whispers. With one last hug she disappears with a _'pop!'_ I stare at the place where she left from a bit sadly. Professor Potter's hand on my shoulder brings me back to earth.

"Time for bed," he says. I nod and smile at him.

"Good night, Professor," I say. He smiles at me.

"You don't have to call me Professor when we aren't at school you know," he says. I shrug. Sure, _now_ he tells me after almost three weeks here!

"Wouldn't it be weird though?" I ask. He shakes his head and smiles at me.

"Whatever you want, Aria. But you can call me Harry when we're not at Hogwarts."

"Alright. Good night … Harry," I say uncomfortably. He smiles at me and gives me a hug.

"Good night, Aria."

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The next morning is extremely rushed and frantic as Jake, Sean, and I struggle to get everything packed. Somehow our belongings have ended up in just about every room we've entered in the last three weeks, and we spend two hours combing the Potter manor looking for anything that's missing from our trunks.

I'm in the sitting room we used of for Christmas, searching for my Charms book when Harry – it feels really weird to call him that, but he gives me a look every time I call him Professor – comes barging in. He shuts the door quickly behind him and looks around quickly. When he sees me he puts a finger to his lips.

"Give this to Ron," he says, slipping a note into my hand. Then he crosses the room quickly. "I was never here," he whispers, pulling aside a big heavy-looking tapestry and pushing open the seemingly solid wall. He shuts the hidden door behind him and the tapestry drops back into place. Weird…

"HARRY!"

The door to the sitting room bangs open violently and Sean's dad comes storming in, looking really, really mad. He looks at me and his expression softens. He looks around the room suspiciously.

"Seen Harry?" he questions. I shake my head wordlessly, trying to make my expression innocent. He raises his eyebrows at me. I smile guiltily.

"Seen my Charms book?" I ask. He gives me a mischievous smile.

"Only if you've seen Harry."

"That's not an answer!"

"Neither is that!"

"I need my Charms book," I insist, letting a whine crawl into my voice.

"I need to find Harry," he mimics. I glare at him and get up.

"Fine then. I'll find it myself."

"Aria."

I turn to look at him. He has a strange expression on his face. I can't really read it. Then he blinks and his face rearranges itself into a joking smile.

"I was just kidding around."

"I know," I say.

"But I really need to find Harry."

"Why?"

"Because I need to kill him," he replies nonchalantly, as if we were talking about my Charms homework.

"Why?" I ask, starting to grin.

"He stole something very dear to me," he continues in the same casual manner.

"What was that?" I ask curiously.

"My underwear," he sighs and I burst out laughing. He nods seriously.

"Every single pair!" he exclaims dramatically.

"How do you know it was him?" I ask, trying to keep my face straight.

"Because in the bottom of my drawer was this note," he says, pulling a scrap of parchment from his pocket and shaking it at me. I take it and read it.

_Ron –_

_I have stolen your underwear._

_Love Harry_

I laugh again and he takes the note back. "Now," he says, bending down and looking me in the eye, "_Where is Harry?_"

"He said to give you this," I say, handing him the note. He unfolds it. Confetti shoots out of it and hits him in the face. Then a sing-song voice I recognize as Harry's emits from the folded parchment.

"You'll never find _meeee!"_

I laugh as Mr. Weasley's face goes from shocked to angry to amused.

"Harry!" he calls out. "I know you're in heeere!"

I point at the tapestry. Mr. Weasley starts tip-toeing toward it quietly. He pulls it aside gently and pushes on the stone wall. The concealed door gives.

"Aaaahhhh!!!" I see a flash of black hair and robes whipping out of sight as the door is opened. Mr. Weasley yells as well and takes off after him.

"Harry, I'm going to KILL YOU!" he screams. Soon their voices are just distant echoes of 'I'll get you!' and 'Come back here!'

I resume my search for my Charms book. Finally I find it under the sofa. What on earth is it doing under there? I grab it and make my way out of the sitting room. I step back against the wall quickly as Harry tears past, laughing. A moment later Mr. Weasley sprints by, screeching incoherently. I smile after them and start toward the stairs.

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Half an hour later, Jake, Sean, and I are squashed into the backseat of Sean's mum's car with Harry. Mr. Weasley, having gotten his underwear back from Harry, is sitting in the front seat. The three adults (Harry didn't have to because he works at Hogwarts) drew straws to see who would have to stay back with the little kids – Ginny lost.

We pull up to King's Cross and all but fall out of the car. Jake and Sean grab their trunks and take off, Sean's mum and dad close on their heels. I linger back with Harry, who smiles at me.

"Time to go back to school, huh?" he asks.

"Guess that means I have to call you 'Professor' again," I comment. He smiles.

"Guess so."

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Why did my mum run away?" I ask quietly. Harry looks at me with concern in his eyes.

"I'm not sure it's my place to tell you that," he murmurs.

"I just want to know why she left. If she loved my dad, then why did she leave him?"

"She was scared," he says simply, his eyes sad.

"Of what?"

"Rejection I suppose. I guess she was afraid that–" he breaks off, his mouth clamped shut. He takes a deep breath. He almost said my dad's name, I know it. "I guess she was afraid your dad wouldn't love her anymore," he finishes at last.

"That's stupid," I mutter. He smiles and wraps an arm around my shoulders.

"Your mum was confused when she left. She wasn't sure if what she had with your dad was love or lust. She thought that if she told him about you, he wouldn't want to be with her anymore."

We arrive at the barrier to the platform, and he doesn't say anymore about Mum. It's so obvious he cares for her – like a sister maybe. He must have been so worried when she left.

"After you, Miss Granger," he says with a smile. I walk toward the barrier and soon find myself on Platform 9¾, where Jake the Weasleys are waiting for me.

We get on the train after many hugs from Sean's parents. Harry doesn't bother, seeing as he's apparating to Hogsmeade anyway, so he'll probably beat us back, but he hugs Sean's parents. Mr. Weasley gives me an extra hug before we get on the train.

"Take care of yourself," he murmurs as he releases me. I smile at him.

"See you next summer," I say. He nods and I hurry to get on board before the train starts moving. We wave until we round the bend and the Weasleys disappear from sight.

**

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A/N: Kind of short, I know, but this was just a filler chapter so I can move on in my plot development. So enjoy!**


	13. Shocking News

**Disclaimer**: I really don't own HP, okay?

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**A/N**: Wow! I got nine reviews the first day chapter twelve was up! Great job you guys! I love you all! Alright, I skipped about five months here, but I didn't want to keep up with all of that, so I just skipped right to June. Guess what? Only a few more chapters left! I was shooting for fifteen, but it might end up as sixteen or seventeen, depending on how long my next two chapters are! Alright, prepare yourselves for a shock! No reading ahead now!

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**Chapter Thirteen: Shocking News **

Aria's POV 

The remainder of the school year practically flies by, and before we're quite ready, end-of-the-year exams are upon us. Jake, Sean, Skyla, and I have been staying away from the library as best we can because the fifth and seventh years are really stressed out and prone to sudden bouts of anger directed at whoever happens to be nearest to them at the time.

Our first exam today is Defense Against the Dark Arts. After lunch is Potions, and then we have one hour for break before our Charms exam.

"I'll never remember all this!" Skyla says frantically, going through my meticulously made Defense notes. Sean throws her a glare over the top of his textbook, which he's been reading since five o'clock this morning, according to Jake. Sean's really nervous about this exam because DADA isn't exactly his strong point. He's been trying to scrape by on his personal relationship with Professor Potter.

"Time to go," Jake says, glancing at his watch. With heavy sighs we get up and start off toward the DADA classroom. When we get there, we figure the fourth years haven't finished their exams yet, seeing as our classmates are lined up outside the door. Skyla and Sean immediately sit down on the floor and resume their last-minute cramming.

Five or ten minutes later, the door opens and the fourth years shuffle out, murmuring amongst themselves. We wait until the last one has left before filing nervously into the classroom.

Professor Potter is standing at the front of the room beside his desk. He smiles at me as I take my seat, and gives me a wink. I smile back, feeling myself relax. I shouldn't worry. I'm good at Defense.

"Hey, where's Karen?" Kelsey asks suddenly, just noticing that her best friend is currently missing in action. Professor Potter just smiles a bit secretively.

"She'll be here any second now," He says, slipping something suspicious-looking into his pocket. No one else seems to have noticed. Sure enough though, hardly five seconds later, Karen comes bursting into the room, flushed and out of breath.

"Sorry!" she exclaims, making her way to her seat amid giggles and snickers. "I got lost."

"I know," Professor Potter says, nodding understandably. "Let's get started then," he continues, passing out the exams. Once everyone has one, he looks at us. "Good luck. If you've been paying attention in class this year, this should prove pretty easy for you. You may begin."

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An hour later, we're all heading to lunch with Skyla moaning on and on about how many questions she thinks she got wrong. She's going on about number thirty-five A when we finally sit down and lunch appears in front of us.

"Wuh oo suh uh!" Jake finally says to her through a mouthful of corn. Skyla glares at him.

"Yeah, really," Sean agrees, reaching for the pumpkin juice. Skyla looks indignant for a few seconds before going back to her lunch, deciding it would be best to just shut up as Jake first suggested.

"I fot duh 'sam wus ethsy," Jake manages around some sort of green vegetable. Skyla just glares at him.

"You _would_ think it was easy," she retorts.

"Dah's cus I'm sarder dahn oo," replies Jake arrogantly. We all roll our eyes at him.

"Yeah right," says Sean, who we've finally trained to swallow before talking. No such luck with Jake unfortunately. Although Mum told me in her last letter that we'll be spending summer vacation at the Potter Manor with Sean's family, so I'm going to keep trying.

The Hall suddenly goes quiet, and we turn instinctively to look at Professor McGonagall. We've learned over the last few months that when the whole Hall gets quiet, it's usually because McGonagall has something to say.

"Please clear the Hall, everyone! We need to get set up for O.W.L.s so if everyone would kindly finish up as soon as possible, that would be wonderful. Thank you!"

We grab as much food as we can to take with us and leave the Hall, heading back to the common room to study for our next exam, which takes place in less than forty-five minutes.

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"Go, Duffy, go!" screams Sean, jumping out of his seat. We're at the last Quidditch game of the year – Gryffindor vs. Hufflepuff. Aaron Duffy is one of the best Chasers in England – he's a seventh year and he already has a contract with Ireland, starting training this summer.

Aaron makes the goal easily and everyone cheers – except Hufflepuff and their supporters of course, but they don't really count.

The game continues, and Aaron continues to make shot after shot to get the score high enough for the Seeker – a fifth year named Ashley Marces – to be allowed to catch the Snitch. Gryffindor has to be up by 150 points before the Snitch can be caught or we won't win the Cup, so Ashley's main job at the moment is keeping the other seeker from getting to the Snitch first.

"C'mon Duffy!" Sean shouts again as Aaron races toward the hoop with the Quaffle in hand. Gryffindor is only 100 points up – we need at least five more goals before Ashley can get the Snitch.

Aaron gets the shot around the Keeper with apparent ease. Suddenly a Bludger comes careening out of nowhere, nearly taking his head off. Professor Potter, who's refereeing this game, blows his whistle angrily.

"Penalty shot to Gryffindor!" he shouts. He glares at the Hufflepuff Beater that whacked the Bludger at Aaron in his rage.

Aaron smirks. It's one thing to make spectacular shots while dodging Bludgers, and Seekers, other Chasers, and Beaters. It's quite another to have a completely unobstructed shot at the goal. Of course he makes it. Over on the teacher's podium, I see the Ireland team manager/trainer lean over and say something to the Captain of the team – a Chaser named Brenten Jahnstrom. Brenten nods back approvingly.

"Whish I was him," Sean sighs wistfully, noticing the Ireland guys as well. I roll my eyes at him.

"You're weird," I tell him. He just grins and returns his attention to the pitch as the game resumes. Now we only need three more goals before Ashley can catch the Snitch and win the Cup for Gryffindor!

Two goals and one near miss involving the Hufflepuff Keeper and one of the Gryffindor Beaters later, Aaron is on his way toward making that crucial goal when a collective cheer goes up from the Hufflepuff supporters. Their Seeker's spotted the Snitch!

Ashley is already on his tail, having been alerted to the situation much earlier than the fans in the crowd. Meanwhile, amongst all the excitement, Aaron shoots two goals in a row, taking advantage of the Keeper's distraction.

"Go, Ashley go!" I scream, jumping out of my seat.

Ashley accelerates as Aaron scores yet another goal. I can see the Ireland guys grinning at each other – they like that he's not getting caught up in the excitement like everyone else. It proves his head's in his game, not his Seeker's, but he's still aware of what's going on.

The Hufflepuff Seeker and Ashley are neck-and-neck now, both of their hands stretched outward. They're about to crash into the stands (everyone is falling over one another to get out of the way) when Ashley shoots forward with a burst of speed, grabs the Snitch, and swerves sharply to avoid colliding with Hagrid.

We all erupt in cheers while the Hufflepuffs groan in defeat. We just won the Cup! Everyone pours onto the field as Ashley, Aaron, and the rest of the team are hoisted up on the shoulders of the entire Gryffindor House.

"Party in the Common Room!" someone shouts joyfully.

"I second that!" Professor Potter calls out. Everyone laughs as we start back to the castle.

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The party lasts until the early hours of morning. Finally Professor Potter sends us to bed at three thirty, looking very apologetic.

Skyla and I say good night to the boys and head upstairs behind Kelsey and Karen, who are gossiping about some Ravenclaw girl that supposedly stole ingredients from the Potions storeroom.

"Some game, huh Aria?" Karen asks as we start preparing for bed. Tomorrow we leave for home. It's so sad that this year at Hogwarts is over now. Two whole months of freedom before we come back. Not that I won't miss Hogwarts – I've come to consider it my second home.

"Yeah it was great," I agree. "Good night everyone," I add, turning out my lamp.

"Good night," Skyla murmurs.

"Sleep tight," says Karen as she climbs into bed.

"Don't let the bed bugs bite!" Kelsey concludes in a sing-song voice. We all laugh at our silly tradition that originated a few weeks after Christmas break.

"Hey guys?" Karen says suddenly.

"Huh?" Kelsey replies sleepily.

"This has been a great year. I'm glad we spent it together," she says, smiling at each of us in turn.

"Me too," Kelsey agrees.

"Yeah," Skyla mumbles.

"I agree completely," I say with a smile, old resentments forgotten.

"Friends?" Karen questions.

"The best," says Kelsey from her pillow, her eyes already shut.

"Forever?" Skyla asks.

"Always," I finish.

"Good night."

"Good night."

"Nighty night."

"Go to sleep!"

"We love you too Kelsey."

"Stuff it, Aria."

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Harry's POV

After last night's party, the thought of having to get up early to keep kids in order makes me want to die. Seeing as everyone will be running pell-mell through the castle saying good bye to friends and looking for lost belongings, I'm not exactly looking forward to it all. And then I have to ride the train home because Ginny says she wants me to keep an eye on Jake and Sean – as if they need a babysitter. And it's not as if they're _my_ kids!

I watch Aria as she hugs Karen good bye. Karen's older brother is picking her up in Hogsmeade I guess. That girl idolizes her brother so much it's disgusting. All she ever talks about is him and how amazing he is at Quidditch.

Karen waves good bye and climbs into a thestral-drawn carriage that will take her to the Three Broomsticks, and everyone else sort of shuffles toward teh carriages reluctantly. Aria looks around for Sean and Jake and Skyla. She spots me in the process and smiles. I smile back automatically. I really do have a soft spot for that girl. Everyone knows it. She somehow wormed her way into my heart even though she's not my daughter. Kind of like Jake and Sean I guess. They're not my kids, but I care for them as though they were.

"C'mon, _Professor_!" Jake calls to me, waving me over to their group of four. I put on a show, pretending I'm extremely annoyed and reluctant to go with them, but Sean, Aria, and Jake just grin at each other and make room for me in their carriage. I look at the thestral in the harness, and I feel the urge to reach out for it. I don't know if any of my students can see thestrals or not, but for their sakes, I hope not. I glance at the carriage before patting the thestral quickly on the neck. It swings its head around and looks at me, sniffing my shirt curiously before I climb in.

"What took you so long?" Sean asks as I settle myself beside Aria. Skyla looks at me a bit nervously. She knows me only as her teacher and nothing else. The other three have seen the real me – Aria especially. I remember the last morning of Christmas break and smile to myself at the memory of Ron chasing me all through the house until Ginny and Keira got a hold of us.

"Had to think about how much I really wanted to ride with you three," I say, pointing to them. They grin at me and it just surprises me again – as it has many times over the last ten months – how alike they are to Ron, Hermione, and I when we were their age. Except they have Skyla too, so it's not exactly like us.

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The train ride home isn't exactly amazing. Sean and I play exploding snap until the ugly smell of singed hair gets to be too much for Aria and she takes our cards away. Then Aria and I play chess – I lose, which doesn't really surprise me. Sean and Jake have been training her since Christmas.

As the train nears King's Cross, the girls kick us out of the compartment so they can change into their Muggle clothes. After we've all changed we sit around pretty silently. It feels weird to be in here with my best friends' kids and two of my other students – two of them that I've known since they were just little kids. I feel old.

"Here we are!" Aria exclaims, jumping up as the train jerks to a stop. She grabs her trunk and hurries out of the compartment with Skyla right on her heels. I watch as she drops her trunk and runs into Hermione's arms eagerly. Hermione smiles and hugs her daughter tightly, talking to her and smiling the whole time. I walk over to them slowly.

"Your daughter here is quite the student," I tell her in a mock-professional manner. Hermione laughs. It's almost like having the old Hermione back again. It occurs to me, that we've always had the old Hermione - Hermione is still Hermione, no matter how much she's changed in the last twelve or so years. She just has more pain, more secrets, more responsibility now. Just like the rest of us. I wish Ron would get that through is thick skull.

"It's good to see you," she says, giving me a hug. "Did you win the Cup?" she adds.

"Yes!" Aria butts in. "We won by a landslide!"

"That's good," Hermione says, hugging her daughter again.

"Hey!"

We turn to see Ron and Keira coming toward us. They have Abby and Henry with them. Abby smiles at Aria.

"Hi!" she says. Aria turns and smiles.

"Hi, Abby." Abby grins and runs forward to hug her.

"I missed you!" Abby exclaims.

"I missed you too," Aria lies. I smile at Hermione, who looks at me with a strange expression on her face.

"We should get going, sweetheart," Hermione says to Aria. Aria nods and grabs her trunk. "See you soon, Harry," she adds, hugging me quickly. I hug her back instinctively. She smiles as we pull apart.

"Are you staying with us for the summer?" Ron asks, looking half hopeful, half dismayed.

"That's the plan," Hermione says, smiling at him in an amused fashion. Keira smiles slightly uneasily as well.

"Well then, we'll be seeing you soon," Keira says. Hermione nods and reaches out to give her a quick hug.

"Real soon," Hermione promises, hugging Ron as well. He looks a bit flustered as she pulls away, but he smiles.

"Alright. See you around, Hermione," Ron says.

"Let's go, Aria," Hermione says. With one last smile to Ron and me, she and Aria leave through the gate and disappear into the Muggle world once more.

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Aria's POV

As we get into the car, I stay quiet, knowing Mum doesn't want me to ask anything until we're in private. Which is why I've been restraining myself so well the last ten minutes while she chatted with her old friends. But as soon as we pull out onto the main road, I look at her expectantly.

"What do you want to know?" she sighs.

"What's his name? What's he look like? How old is he? Did he get married? Does he have other kids?" I start, the questions just pouring out unchecked. I've been bottling all this up for months now!

"Let's start with what he looks like," Mum says with a nervous smile. "I have a picture of him in my purse." She reaches down with one hand to her purse, but she knocks over her uncapped water bottle in the process. "Oh bugger," she mutters. She looks down quickly before glancing back at the road and groping blindly for some paper towels or napkins or something to wipe up all the water.

I hand her some tissues I found under my seat. "Thank you," she says. She leans down and wipes off her feet and legs first before starting on the wet floor. I watch her for a few seconds before a swooping sensation in my stomach makes me look back up to the road just in time to see a giant truck barreling down on us.

"Mum watch out!" I scream. The truck slams into the side of the car, sending us flying through the air. The last thing I see is the shocked look on Mum's face. And then everything goes black.

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"I think she's waking up."

"Her hand twitched."

"Her eyelids flickered! Did you see that?"

"Should we call a nurse?"

"Yeah, you go get a nurse. I'll stay here with her in case she wakes up."

"Good."

The words flow slowly from my ears to my brain, making my thought process slow and difficult. I strain to open my eyes, but every time I manage even a little bit, a blinding white light makes me close them again. For a moment I wonder if I'm dead, but then I feel the pain, and I know that I must be alive.

The pain is awful. Everything from the waist up just aches with short bursts of really sharp pain, and my legs feel swollen and heavy. My head throbs and my ribs sear with pain every time I try to move.

"Just lie still, dear. We're getting a nurse."

I try to talk, but my throat is so dry I can hardly open my mouth. I move my tongue around hesitantly, licking my lips and wetting my parched mouth.

Once more I try opening my eyes, but that blinding light makes me snap them shut again. What _is_ that?

"You should try closing the blinds," an unfamiliar voice says from somewhere to my left. I try turning my head toward the voice, but a sharp throb somewhere in the region of my neck warns me not to move.

The bed I'm lying on shifts as someone gets up and the sound of curtains being pulled shut reaches my ears. I try opening my eyes again. The blinding light is gone, but it's still bright in the room I'm in. I register that everything around me is white before my heavy eyelids fail me again.

"Aria, if you can hear me, squeeze my hand," someone says, putting their hand into my left hand. I squeeze it feebly, my strength deserting me. I hear a delighted noise from the end of my bed.

"She's awake!"

"Aria, if you know where you are, squeeze my hand again," the first voice says. I'm not completely sure, so I don't move my hand.

"If you remember what happened, squeeze my hand."

I struggle to open my eyes again to see who's talking to me. I see a young woman with blonde hair and brown eyes in a Muggle nurse's uniform, holding my hand. I stare at her, and she smiles gently.

"Do you remember what happened to you?" she asks softly.

I think. I remember getting off the train at King's Cross, talking to Professor Potter and Sean's parents… getting into the car with Mum… Mum!

"Where's Mum?" I ask, my voice scratchy and hoarse. Since I can't move my head, I look around the room as far as my peripheral vision allows, searching for her.

"Where is she?" I ask, starting to feel frantic. I look toward the end of the bed to see my grandparents exchanging worried looks.

"Aria, I need to you to tell me if you remember," the nurse says firmly, trying distract me.

"And I need you to tell me where my mum is," I retort angrily. I see Grandma smile slightly. She always admired my strong will. The nurse however, glares at me. Reluctantly, I think back to the car. There was spilled water … a big truck…

"Mum?" I ask weakly, fearing the worst. I look at my grandparents again. Grandma shakes her head, tears welling up in her eyes very suddenly. Granddad takes her in his arms and whispers in her ear, holding her close.

"What happened to her?" I demand, sitting up suddenly. Mistake. My breath whooshes out of me in shock as the pain hits me like a tidal wave. I gasp in pain as my ribs shift and my neck moves. The nurse eases me gently into a propped up position against my pillows.

"Oh, Aria," Grandma says, coming to my side. She takes my hand and kisses my forehead like she used to when I was little and scraped up my elbows and knees on her driveway learning to rollerblade one summer.

"Where is my mum?" I ask again.

"Aria, sweetheart… She didn't make it," Granddad says, and a sob tears from Grandma's throat. My breath leaves me again, but not in pain this time.

"What?" my voice comes out strangled and scared-sounding.

"Aria, your mum … she's dead."

* * *

**A/N**: Plot twist!! -_Ambassador finger flicks from Gov. Camp-_


	14. Silence, Sadness, and Tears

**Disclaimer**: I really don't own Harry okay? Please don't sue me…

**A/N**: Alright, this chapter's a bit sad – Hermione's funeral is in it. It's kind of long, and the points of view jump around time-wise a bit, but it turned out alright I think… Please review! I won't say happy reading because this chapter isn't very happy…

* * *

**Chapter Fourteen: Silence, Sadness, and Fresh Tears**

_Aria's POV_

"_Where is my mum?" I ask again._

"_Aria, sweetheart… She didn't make it," Granddad says, and a sob tears from Grandma's throat. My breath leaves me again, but not in pain this time._

"_What?"_

"_Aria, your mum … she's dead."_

-:-:-:-:-

"Aria, dear, come look at this," Grandma calls from the kitchen. I don't move from my position on the couch. The television in front of me is showing some stupid game show that I don't really understand. I hear Grandma call me again, but I ignore her. I don't feel like getting up.

"Aria?" Grandma comes into the living room, looking at me with a mixture of concern and annoyance. "Dear, please come look at this. I need to see if it fits," she says, holding up a black dress. I feel like throwing up at the sight of it. It's the same dress I begged Mum to buy me for my birthday last year – she'd told me I was too young to wear a dress like that.

Grandma lets out a sigh and hangs the dress on the doorknob of the kitchen door. She comes and sits down beside me on the couch, pulling me into a hug. "I know this is hard for you," she whispers into my hair. She smells like vanilla and hairspray, a scent I always loved when I was little. Now the smell seems almost overpowering, and it makes my stomach churn unpleasantly.

"Can you just do this one thing for me? I want to know if it fits. I know you like that dress," she says, rubbing my arms in what she thinks is a comforting way. When I was a little kid, she'd sit beside me for an hour or more, stroking my arms like that. It always felt so good – a mix of a tickle and a massage. Now I despise her touch and I wish she'd leave me alone. I don't want to try on the stupid dress.

She stands, holding her hand out to me. Grudgingly I take it, trying not to cringe as she kisses my forehead in thanks. She leads me to the kitchen and hands me the dress, directing me to the bathroom just off to the right. I go inside and change slowly, refusing to look at myself in the mirror in front of me. Finally I finish, tying the halter straps behind my neck, lifting my hair out of the way. I glance up at myself in the mirror quickly.

In all honesty, the dress looks nice on me, but I still feel like my lunch is coming back up when I think about the small tantrum I had when Mum wouldn't get me this same dress last summer.

I step out of the bathroom and Grandma smiles at me. "You look lovely," she says, coming toward me. I move backwards almost instinctively, knowing she's about to hug me again. She looks hurt, but she hides it well with a quick smile. "Well, I'm glad it fits. I remember how much you wanted it for your birthday last year," she says. I nod before going back into the bathroom.

-:-:-:-:-

The church is full of people with solemn looks on their faces. I sit in the narthex, nodding at everyone who stops by to say they're so sorry for my loss and how wonderful Mum was and how they'll all miss her. A few people cry, but they quickly leave, probably thinking I'll have a meltdown or something if they cry in front of me.

"Aria?"

I look up, surprised. Meghan is standing in front of me, wearing a black skirt and a purple lacey t-shirt. She doesn't smile at me. She just comes forward and sits down in the chair across from me.

"I'm sorry," she whispers. I just nod at her like I did everyone else. I can feel her eyes on me, but I can't meet her gaze. "Are you … are you alright?" I look up at her, not sure what to say. "From the accident I mean?" she adds. I shrug.

"I broke a couple of ribs. That's about it. When the car … when it rolled, it landed on Mum's side … that's why…" I just trail off, not wanting to finish my explanation. Meghan nods.

"Have you seen Jess?" she asks. I look around. "Oh, she's not here yet," she adds, noticing my searching. "I was just wondering if you've seen her since … since school let out," she says uncertainly.

"Oh, no I haven't," I murmur. "Is she coming?"

"I think so. She said she'd try to get here, but her dad broke his leg trying to clean the rain gutters, and he has a physical therapy appointment today. I'm not sure if it interferes or not. But she really wants to be here for you," Meghan insists.

"I know," I reply softly. "Thanks."

"So how was boarding school?" she asks, changing the subject. I shrug.

"I like it."

"Maybe I should go there," she jokes. I know she'd never actually go to boarding school. She wouldn't like being away from her family that long. Besides, she wouldn't be able to get into Hogwarts.

"You wouldn't like it there," I mumble. She smiles at me sadly, knowing it's true.

"Aria?" I look up to see Grandma coming over. "The service is about to start." Swallowing hard, I nod and stand up. Meghan reaches over and squeezes my hand quickly before getting up and going back to stand with her parents.

The service is pretty much a blur – the preacher says a bunch of nice things about Mum and how wonderful she was and that everyone loved her. Some people I don't even know, but apparently knew Mum get up and speak about her. I feel like slapping them. They didn't even know her. How can they get up there and talk about how wonderful she was? I swallow again, not allowing myself to get upset about it. They're idiots. Let them make fools out of themselves.

Meghan's mum is one of the people who gets up and talks. I used to think that Mum and Meg's mum were really close friends. But seeing my mum with Harry and Sean's dad, I realized just who her friends really were. I still can't quite believe she just ran away from all of them. It was so obvious she cared for them.

I look around almost unconsciously, looking for them. I feel my heart sink when I see they're not here. Do they even know what happened? They must – it was probably in the _Daily Prophet_. I guess they figured that they shouldn't come, since this is a Muggle church and all. I still feel a strange stab of disappointment. It's only been two weeks, but I miss my friends.

Suddenly Grandma is telling me to stand up. The service is over and people are walking by her … casket. I didn't even notice it there. It's a dark red wood. The top is closed. Some people stop longer than others. When Granddad stands aside for me to go in front of him to get in line, I walk the other way. I don't want to pay any last respects.

"I'll wait in the car," I tell him. I hear Grandma call my name, but ignore her. I head out to sit in the car while everyone else says good bye to a woman they all claim they knew.

-.-.-.-.-.-

Ron's POV (two weeks earlier)

The obituary section in the _Daily Prophet _usually holds no interest for me. I usually scan it quickly before moving on to the sports section to find out if the Cannons won their latest game or not (usually not, but I still look just in case).

The morning after we get home from picking up Jake and Sean, I'm the only one awake. We haven't left for Harry's yet – we're waiting until Hermione sets a date to get over there, and then we'll go too. I sit down at the kitchen table, moving aside a pile of colorful drawings Abby made the other day while Ginny was babysitting. Most of them are just colored squiggles, but some of them look vaguely like people or animals. I sift through them curiously. There's a dog and some people and a purple unicorn-type thing.

I look up at the clock to see it's nearly nine. Everyone must have decided to sleep in today. Normally Abby is already up and raring to go at this time, and Henry is usually demanding his breakfast. And Jake is normally a pretty early riser. Today the house is quiet.

"Good morning." I look behind me.

"Morning, Keira," I say. She sits down beside me and leans against me. I wrap my arm around her. "Tired?" I joke. She hits my leg feebly in annoyance. I smile and kiss her temple lightly. A sudden tapping at the window makes us look up.

"News is here," Keira yawns, getting up and crossing the kitchen to open the window. The owl flies in and drops the paper in front of me. Then he goes to Keira and holds out his leg for payment. He knows the drill. Keira rolls her eyes as I unfurl the newspaper. The front page is all about some guy who discovered a spell that allows someone to breathe underwater. I skim the article quickly, thinking that this would've been useful seventeen or so years ago when Harry was in the Triwizard Tournament.

I glance over the second and third pages quickly, wanting to get on to the sports section so Keira can read all the boring stuff she likes to read. She hates it when I take too long reading the paper, because she always has to be in on the latest news.

The fourth page has a bunch obituaries on them. Some old guy, the author of "Charm Your own Cheese" – oh that's sad I think Mum likes that book, someone who found a thirteenth use for dragon blood, Hermione Granger, the invent- wait what?

I go back quickly. My breath catches in my throat. This can't be true. Is this some sort of sick joke? I stare at the small obituary, not really able to process anything beyond the death date after that little hyphen. Yesterday afternoon.

"Ron what is it? You look as if someone's died," Keira jokes. I think I'm going to be sick at her words. I lay the paper down, run out the front door and retch into the bushes. Keira follows me outside worriedly. I wipe my mouth and then my stomach convulses again, but there's nothing left to come out. All that comes up is clear bile.

"Ron, dear, what's the matter?" Keira asks, coming over to pull me up. She leads me back inside and sits me down in a chair again. I start to shake. This isn't true. This is some sort of sick joke. Keira glances at me, a worried look in her eyes. She walks cautiously toward the newspaper and picks it up, scanning it quickly. I close my eyes and try to breathe evenly.

"Oh no," she whispers, and I hear the paper fall back to the table. "Oh, Ron," she says. She hugs me from behind and I'm surprised when she presses her cheek against mine and it's damp. I didn't know she even liked Hermione. "This is awful," she says, her voice catching. "That poor girl."

Girl? What girl? Hermione is not a little girl! Oh wait. Aria. Oh no. Aria. I stand up abruptly, surprising her. "Ron what are you doing?" she asks, looking at me with a look of suspicion in her eyes.

"I need to see her," I say, my voice hoarse.

"No, Ron. She's probably in the hospital. She has enough problems as it is right now. Just wait alright?" she says, grabbing my arm as if she's afraid I'll get away. I nod, my resolve disappearing as quickly as it had come, and she loosens her grip slightly.

"I wonder if Harry knows," she whispers. We look up at the other clock that hangs on the wall in our kitchen. It's one very similar to my mum's, only there are more people on it. Keira added Aria after Christmas. She offered to add Hermione, but I didn't want her to. Now I'm glad she didn't because I don't really want to know what her hand would be pointing at right now. I didn't really want to add everyone in the entire Weasley/Potter family, so only our family, the Potters, Mum, Dad, Keira's parents, Jake, and Aria are on there. I look at Aria's hand, and it's pointing to _Hospital._ At least it's not pointing to _Mortal Peril_. Then I look at Harry's hand. _Traveling_.

-.-.-.-.-.-

Harry's POV

I apparate to Ron's house the second I see the _Prophet_. He's probably taking it badly. I knock on the door, and it's opened immediately. They were waiting for me. Keira hugs me as soon as I'm through the door. I hug her back, holding her until she regains her composure. There are tears in her eyes. I know she and Hermione were just getting to be friends at Christmas.

I look up at Ron. His face is pale and he looks like he's not quite sure where he is. I can tell he's trying really hard not to cry. I know I can feel tears pressing against my eyes. But I'm not going to cry here. One of the kids might see.

"Are you alright?" I ask him. He looks at me like I'm stupid. Of course he's not okay. "Do you know how Aria is?" I try. He just stares at me. That'd be a no I guess.

Keira looks at me pleadingly. She's never seen Ron like this. The only time I remember him looking like this was right after Hermione left. Only then he'd have sudden outbursts of anger directed at whoever happened to be nearest to him. He'd thought it was his fault she left, and he was mad at himself. But since he couldn't very well beat himself up, he took it out on everyone else.

"I'll take care of it," I murmur to her. I take Ron by the arm and direct him into the living room. He sinks into the couch and puts his head in his hands. He takes a deep shuddering breath, and I look at him uncertainly. I'm not sure if he's crying or not. I think the last time I saw him cry was at Dumbledore's funeral. _Funeral_. The word makes my heart clench. Of course her parents will hold a funeral for her. We probably won't be welcome there – not Ron anyway.

I sit down in an armchair and sigh slightly. Hermione had wizard friends too – we have just as much a right to say good-bye as anyone. Obviously she can't be buried twice – that might raise odd questions. But we could have a memorial service. That's probably better than a funeral anyway. I look over to see Keira standing the doorway, watching Ron. She looks at me, and there's a weird look in her eyes. Glancing at Ron and deciding he's probably not going anywhere anytime soon, I get up and go over to her.

"I'm such an idiot," she whispers to herself, still looking at Ron.

It takes me a few seconds to figure out what she's talking about. I glance at Ron, still not crying, but shaking his head in disbelief, and it dawns on me. I've known all along that he still loved Hermione. I didn't know that Keira knew though. I look at her.

"It's not that he loved her more," I whisper. She shakes her head, tears springing to her eyes. "He's just loved her longer. He loved her for entirely different reasons than he loves you for."

"I can't believe I didn't see it before," she whispers, a tear escaping her eye. "All this time I was convinced that it was Hermione who still loved Ron. Turns out it was just the opposite," she says quietly. I hug her impulsively. She leans into me, tears falling silently.

"He still loves you," I tell her. She nods.

"I know that, Harry. I just wish I would have figured out sooner that he's still so completely in love with her as well," she answers. I steal another glance at my best mate. His head is back in his hands, but I haven't seen tears yet.

"Daddy?"

Ron's head snaps up automatically at the sound of Abby's voice. Keira's does too. She wipes her tears away instantly and replaces her look of despair with a smile.

"Good morning sweetheart," she says a bit too brightly. Abby looks at Ron worriedly.

"Daddy, what's wrong?"

"Nothing, love," Ron croaks. "Don't you worry about it."

-.-.-.-.-

Two Weeks Later

Two weeks later, and I feel like I have to _do_ something. Keira and I have planned a memorial service – we didn't ask Ron to help, seeing as he's been miserable ever since he found out, and the only time he isn't depressed is when Abby or Henry are around (he doesn't seem to mind if Sean or Jake see him like that though, and I can tell those boys are getting worried).

Finally I just sit down and write a letter to Hermione's mum – Aria's grandmother. I need to see Aria, and I need to talk to Mrs. Granger. Aria needs to get out of that house – even for a few hours. She needs a few hours away from her grandparents.

Don't get me wrong – I love Mr. and Mrs. Granger. They were always kind to me, even though I didn't know them very well. But Aria has to be getting tired of sitting in that house all day long. She probably needs some air.

I send the letter off with my owl, telling Mrs. Granger that I will be arriving on her doorstep in a matter of hours whether she likes it or not).

-:-:-:-:-

Three hours later, I manage to convince Ginny to watch the kids, and I apparate to Hermione's parents' new house (they moved a few months before the war ended). I've only been there once before, but I remember it nonetheless.

I step up to the front door of a plain-looking Muggle house and ring the doorbell. Through the lacy front curtain I can see the television is on, and I'm sure I know who's sitting on the couch a mere few feet from the door in the perfect position to open it for me. I ring the bell again.

The door opens a few seconds later to a very irritated-looking Mrs. Granger. She looks at me in surprise, recognition sparking in her eyes. Then she smiles at me and invites me inside. I step in, looking toward the couch. Aria is staring at the television, not even acknowledging my presence. I feel my heart clench at the sight of her, still in her pajamas at one o'clock in the afternoon, her hair uncombed, her expression blank of any emotion. She must be so sad.

"Hello, Aria," I say softly to her. She ignores me and continues to flip through the channels. I have a feeling that even if I stood in front of the TV, she wouldn't see me. She'd probably just look right through me. I follow Mrs. Granger into the kitchen, and I feel a smile tugging at the corner of my mouth as door closes and the volume on the television lowers considerably.

"She hasn't spoken a word in five days! I don't know what to do! She's just being so difficult! She won't speak, she won't look at me when I'm talking to her, she hardly eats a thing, and all she does is sit around watching television all day!" Mrs. Granger exclaims as soon as the door shuts.

"Maybe she doesn't know how to tell you she's hurt," I murmur, knowing it's true. Mrs. Granger rolls her eyes at me in a way that reminds me heart-achingly of Hermione.

"She's just being ornery," she insists.

"I want to ask your permission for something," I say, ignoring her comment. Aria is anything but ornery at the moment.

"What is it?" she asks impatiently.

"I've planned a memorial service for Hermione –" I pause when Mrs. Granger's eyes suddenly fill with tears. I keep forgetting that Hermione was her daughter – her _only_ daughter. She wipes her eyes quickly and nods at me to keep going. " – and I was wondering if you'd let me take Aria – she doesn't have to if she doesn't want to of course, but I think it would be good for her to get out of the house for awhile. Plus, I know of a few people who would really like to see her," I say, thinking of not only Jake and Sean, but Ron as well.

Mrs. Granger nods silently. "That-that would be f-fine," she stammers, her voice shaky. I smile sympathetically at her and she nods back. "You should g-go talk to Aria," she says, turning away from me with a hand over her eyes. Her shoulders shake slightly, but she doesn't turn around. So I stand up quietly and make my way back into the living room.

"Hey," I say. She looks up at me and says nothing. I sigh and try again. "Look, Aria. I know you're hurting alright? And I know you had to go to your mum's funeral last week, but I was just wondering… Well, I set up this memorial service for her. So all of her wizarding friends can say good bye as well. You don't have to, but I was wondering if you wanted to come." I say rather quickly.

She looks at me and shrugs. I wait patiently. Hermione may have had a problem with people shrugging, but being a teacher and a father of five little kids, one gets used to it. I sit silently while she thinks about it. Finally she nods slowly. I smile at her.

"It's in three days. You can come home with me now if you want. If not, I'll pick you up on Monday, alright? Do you want to come with me now or do you want me to pick you up?"

She shrugs again, and I realize I asked her two questions – something she can't exactly answer with a nod or a shake of the head. "Do you want me to just pick you up Monday?" I ask again. She nods.

"Aria, I want you to know… I'm not going to get after you to talk if you don't want to talk and I won't force feed you or make you get up in the morning if you don't want to. But eventually you're going to have to go back to school, you know that right?" I say, feeling like I need to tell her this. She nods again, a bit more slowly, her blue eyes fixed on mine the entire time. I have to look away. Seeing those eyes – Ron's eyes – staring back at me like that … so lost and sad. I can't stand it. Seeing those eyes in pain once a day is more than enough, and I've already seen Ron today.

"I should get going. I'll see you Monday though, alright?" She nods once more. I hug her impulsively, ending it quickly when she stiffens in my arms. She probably hasn't been hugged for two weeks. I smile at her one more time before heading home.

-.-.-.-.-

Aria's POV

On Monday I'm ready by noon. The memorial service is at twelve thirty, and Harry is supposed to come get me at ten after. We're going to apparate there. I wear the same dress I wore for the funeral and I put my hair up.

At exactly ten after the doorbell rings. I get up and answer it, seeing as I'm the only one home – Granddad's at work and Grandma's at the store.

"Ready?" Harry asks, holding out his arm as he shuts the door behind him. I nod and take his arm. "Hold on tight," he says. I grip his arm tightly and suddenly it feels like I'm being squeezed through a very small tube. The pressure disappears quickly though and I shake my head to clear it.

When I open my eyes, we're standing in front of what looks like a funeral home. Harry opens the door and pushes me inside gently. I look around. People are talking quietly, murmuring amongst themselves. Most people I don't recognize, but I'm surprised to see almost all of my teachers from Hogwarts. Professor McGonagall is talking to Professors Flitwick and Sprout. Hagrid is there, talking to a professor I don't know – I think he teaches Arithmancy, but I'm not sure. Both of the weird Divination teachers are here – I've been advised not to take Divination when I'm a third year. Supposedly both of the teachers are a bit strange and the subject is just stupid.

There are a lot of people I don't know too. A man with short brown hair and a round face is practically crying, talking to a dark-skinned man and a woman with long black hair and bright red fingernails.

But I spot someone who looks familiar, even though I've never met him. He's about as tall as Harry, maybe a bit taller. I puzzle over who he could be for a few minutes.

"Viktor," Harry says as the man comes forward. I realize this is Viktor Krum – the guy Mum went to the Yule Ball with in her fourth year. The guy from Harry's photo album.

"Harry. It is so good to see you," he says. His accent is strong, but he speaks English very well.

"Not under the circumstances though," Harry replies grimly. I realize his hands are still on my shoulders. I hadn't even noticed.

"Who is this?" Viktor asks curiously, ignoring Harry's response.

I feel Harry tense slightly. "Hermione's daughter," he replies at last. Viktor looks down at me with a kind expression.

"I'm so sorry," he says softly, and I can tell he really means it. I just nod at him.

Viktor Krum leaves again soon after that, meandering over to talk to someone else I don't recognize. I spot Eva, talking to a man I recognize as Carl, even though I've never actually met him. I saw him in a picture of all of Mum's coworkers once. I feel a surge of resentment toward him. Mum never liked him; what is he doing here? Wait, Eva's a witch? Carl's a wizard? But that would mean that all of Mum's coworkers are…

"Come on," Harry says, interrupting my amazing discovery and steering me toward the man with the brown hair and his two companions. I hesitate. "They don't bite," he says with a slight chuckle. At his words the man looks up and smiles slightly.

"Harry," he says. Harry nods back, still pushing me forward.

"Aria, this is Neville Longbottom. He's a good friend of mine," Harry introduces. I nod at the man. He looks at Harry curiously. "Hermione's daughter," Harry adds. Neville Longbottom – for some reason the name is familiar, though for the life of me I can't figure out why – looks back down at me with a new sadness in his face. I shift uncomfortably.

"And I'm Parvati Thomas. This is my husband Dean," the woman says, holding out her hand. I just look at it, not willing to let her touch me. She takes her hand back, glancing over at Harry uncertainly.

"Maybe we should go," says Dean Thomas, taking his wife by the hand and leading her away to talk to George Weasley. I look around, searching for Sean and his family. I spot Molly and Arthur Weasley talking to Bill and Fleur, and I see Percy talking to Ginny. I see Charlie and his wife and Josh, who's fidgeting and back-talking. I feel a lump rise in my throat when I remember how much he liked Mum, but I swallow. I haven't cried in months and I don't exactly want to in front of the whole world. As I look around I see a lot of people crying, and I feel stronger because I'm not.

Arthur Weasley puts his wand to his throat and his voice is suddenly magnified. "The service is about to start. Would everyone please make their way into the room to the east and take a seat. Thank you," he says solemnly.

People start filing into the next room slowly, still talking amongst themselves with sadness on their faces. I get the feeling that these people actually knew my mum. They look so much sadder than the people at the funeral. A lot of them are crying – even some of the men. Hardly anyone was crying at the funeral.

Before long the only people left in the parlor are Harry and me. I hear a pop behind us and we turn around. It's Sean, Jake, and Sean's parents. I wonder where they left Abby and Henry, but then I realize I don't really care.

Sean and Jake come forward right away when they spot me. Sean hugs me, and I feel myself stiffen. He lets go quickly, and Jake doesn't hug me at all. He smiles uncomfortably. Sean's mum puts one hand on each of their shoulders and leads them into the other room, leaving me with my mum's two best friends.

Sean's dad squats down in front of me and takes my hands in his just like he did at Christmas. He looks straight into my eyes and I feel that lump returning to my throat. I try to swallow, but I can't. Tears prick at the back of my eyes.

Suddenly I can't take it anymore. I throw myself into his arms and the tears finally come. He wraps his arms around me slowly, as though he's afraid I'm going to pull away. Then he hugs me tight and just holds me as I bury my face in his neck.

-.-.-.-.-

Ron's POV

I hold Aria close as she sobs and sobs and sobs. She cries uncontrollably into the shoulder of my only good dress robes, but I don't mind. Over her shoulder I see Harry slip into the next room over where they're holding the service, leaving me alone – completely alone – with Aria for the first time.

As I hold her, I start wondering if Hermione told Aria anything about me before she died. I know it's not the right time to ask, but Aria's an impatient child, I know that. I don't think she would have waited until they were all the way home to ask.

"…uh aht." I'm suddenly aware that Aria is mumbling something into my shoulder. I take her by the shoulders gently and steer her backwards away from me so I can see her face. Her eyes are red and tears are staining her cheeks.

"What?" I ask her softly, gently. She sniffs and opens her mouth to say something, but she stops. I watch a tear slide down her face slowly, making its way along her jaw line and pausing at the edge of her chin. I reach up and wipe it away gently. A strange sound escapes her throat, somewhere between a whimper and a sob.

"My fault," she whispers at last. I look at her like she's crazy. What does she mean it's her fault? What was her fault?

"What was your fault?" I ask gently.

"Mum," she says with a sob.

"Oh, Aria," I murmur, taking her in my arms again. She wraps her arms around my neck and starts to cry again. "Don't ever think it was your fault. Things like this just happen," I tell her, remembering how Harry had blamed himself for not only Cedric's death, but Sirius' and Dumbledore's as well, and how he'd beaten himself up so long over it.

"It was," she insists through her tears.

"Aria, it was _not_ your fault," I tell her fiercely, hugging her tight. She lets out another sob and hugs me tighter as well.

"Yes."

"How could it be your fault?" I ask, starting to feel like I'm arguing with Hermione.

She takes a shaky breath and pulls back from me. Instinctively, I wipe the tears off of her cheeks gently. Instantly, more spring to her eyes.

"Wh-when we were dr-driving home," she starts shakily, tears spilling down her face again. I continue to wipe them away as she talks. "I a-asked M-Mum about my f-f-father," she says, a sob escaping her throat. She buries her face in my neck again and I allow her to cry for another minute or so until her statement really starts to get to me. Carefully, I pull away from her again.

"What does that have to do with anything?" I ask curiously.

"She pr-promised she'd tell me about him once s-school let out," she continues, and I watch a tear as it falls off her chin and sails toward the ground, coming to an abrupt stop on my outstretched arm. "And in the c-car, I asked about him, and she said she h-had a picture of him in her-her purse," she continues. Slowly I start putting this scene together in my mind. I nod at her to keep going.

"So she was g-getting it, when her water t-tipped over, and she was trying to c-clean it up, and I guess she swerved into the wrong lane and then…" she stops abruptly and another sob tears from her as more tears slip down her cheeks. I take her up in my arms again and she sags against me, a new wave of tears coming up.

"That doesn't make it your fault," I whisper to her, kissing the side of her head. She just sobs again. "It was an accident. Don't you blame yourself for something that wasn't your fault," I say quietly.

"It _was_ my fault though!" she insists from my shoulder. "If I had just waited until we got home…"

"Aria, you know it wasn't your fault. You were curious – that's not a crime. And your mum could have told you about m– I mean, your dad, at any time," I say, catching myself just in time. I'm not sure if she caught my slip-up or not. Hopefully not. "And besides, it might have happened anyway. She could have been reaching for anything else and tipped over her water. It's not your fault, sweetheart."

Aria doesn't answer. She just continues to cry. From the room where the service is being held, I hear someone talking about Hermione and how wonderful it was to work with her at St. Mungo's. I crane my neck to see who it is. Some man I've never met.

"Do you want to go sit down and listen to the service?" I ask her. She shakes her head no. I feel a slight stab of disappointment, but then I realize that I don't really want to listen to a bunch of people talk about how wonderful Hermione was – I don't want to hear anyone talk about how Hermione _was_.

"How about if we go back to my place? I'll make you lunch and then we can just sit around and do whatever you want," I tell her. She nods and sniffles. As I pull away, she looks me in the eye and nods again. I look at her for a few moments before her eyes fill up with tears once more and she hides her face in my neck again. I bury my face in her hair – which smells just like Hermione's always did – and I let her cry. She doesn't sob loudly this time like earlier, but her shoulders shake violently and it takes me a few minutes to figure out that my face is wet too. I hug her closer and bury my face even more in her hair and I too let myself cry for the first time in almost thirteen years.

* * *

**A/N**: It kind of jumped around a bit, and it's sad, but I think it turned out okay. I hope this answers some of your questions. As for all of you wondering about Aria's living arrangements, that's up next! I think I may have one or two more chapters. Right now I'm planning on two, but if I can manage to wrap it all up in one, then it'll only be one more. So I hope you enjoyed this chapter – it's one of the last!


	15. Similarities

**Disclaimer**: Do I really have to say it again? I don't own Harry Potter.

**A/N**: This chapter kind of jumps between Aria and Ron's points of view a lot, but the story isn't quite so jumpy as last time. At least, we don't skip two weeks and then go back two weeks, and then go forward two and a half weeks. The timing in this chapter is pretty straightforward. The story's almost over everyone! How depressing is that? This is the penultimate chapter (penultimate – great vocab word)! I hope you like it! Happy Reading everyone.

* * *

**Chapter Fifteen: Similarities**

Aria's POV

When I wake up on a couch with a light blanket draped over me, I almost expect to see my grandparents' television in front of me, but then I remember that I'm not at my grandparents' house. I raise my head slightly and look around. From somewhere behind me I can hear voices speaking in whispers that I can't understand. I glance toward the empty fireplace – it's July so there's no need for a fire – and then up at the mantle. There are a few pictures arranged there – one of them is Sean's parents' wedding picture. Four of the remaining five are individual pictures of Sean, Jake, Abby, and Henry.

The last picture I can't actually see very well because the light coming in through the window behind me is glaring directly on the glass. I get up quietly and walk toward the mantle slowly.

I stand in front of the picture, blocking the light. In the dimness, I can just see the faces of the two occupants of the picture. My breath catches in my throat and my heart skips a beat. It's a picture of Mum and me from Christmas. We're sitting on the floor in the living room of the Burrow, Mum behind me, dangling tinsel in my face. I'm laughing and trying to get away from her and the tinsel. I feel tears well up in my eyes as she starts tickling me in the photo, the tinsel forgotten.

A noise behind me makes me jump. I whip around to see Sean standing in the doorway to the kitchen, still in his pajamas. He has a sandwich in one hand and a glass of water in the other. He looks at me with a startled expression.

"I didn't mean to bother you," he says quickly. He darts up the staircase and out of sight. A second later his dad comes in. He looks surprised when he sees me standing at the mantle.

"Are you alright?" he asks, coming toward me. I shrug, not quite able to meet his eyes. I can feel his gaze on me though, and eventually I glance up. When I look into his eyes, I'm suddenly taken back to that first night of Christmas break, and the strangest sense of déjà vu overtakes me. His eyes are still that same, familiar blue. Once again I feel as if I've seen those same eyes somewhere, but I still can't place it. I feel slightly stupid, knowing it's probably an obvious or easy answer. I look away again.

"Aria? Are you sure you're alright?"

"Do my grandparents know I'm here?" I ask softly, knowing they're the type to worry.

"Harry's told them. I'll take you back later today," he says.

"Maybe I don't want to go back," I mutter, surprising myself.

"Aria," he says in a tone of scolding surprise. He sits down on the coffee table so our eyes are nearly level. "Right now, your grandparents need you. I know it might not seem like it, but they're hurting just as much as you are," he says. I roll my eyes. They sure have a great way of showing it.

"I don't want to go back there," I tell him. "They never talk to each other. My granddad never even looks at me."

"They just don't know how to express their pain," he explains.

"They just don't want to admit that they're human like everyone else," I retort. He sighs and looks away for a moment before looking back up at me.

"Your grandparents love you a lot, Aria."

"They think I'm a nuisance."

"You're all they have left of your mum," he says, and I feel those tears come back. I look down so he won't see. "Look, let's eat breakfast and then I'll take you home," he says.

"That's not my home."

"Well, I can't very well take you home and leave you there alone," he answers. I glare at him.

"I'm hungry," I say pointedly. He nods and stands up.

"Let's go get some breakfast then," he answers. I follow him into the kitchen and I seat myself at the table. "Hope you like eggs. That's all I know how to make," he says with a small smile. I shrug.

"Eggs are fine."

"Eggs it is then."

-.-.-.-

Ron's POV

"Ready?" I ask her, holding out my hand. She takes it hesitantly and somewhat reluctantly. I can tell she doesn't want to go back. I feel awful for being the one to take her there. She grips my hand tightly as we apparate. When she looks up to see that she's on her grandparents' front steps, she scowls.

"I'm sorry," I tell her as I ring the doorbell. I notice with some satisfaction that she hasn't let go of my hand yet. When the front door is pulled open by Hermione's father however, I drop Aria's hand instantly. Mr. Granger looks at me for a few seconds, obviously trying to place me. In the few moments it takes him to recognize me, Mrs. Granger appears behind him.

"Oh, Aria you're home," Mrs. Granger says, pulling the door open for her. Aria hesitates. She glances up at me, begging me with her eyes not to make her go in there. I guide her forward gently. As soon as she's through the door I stop. She looks back at me expectantly. Swallowing, I look at Mrs. Granger for permission to enter her home. I've never been welcome here, at this house.

"Come in, come in," Mrs. Granger says impatiently, pulling her husband out of the way. Mr. Granger glares at me, and I look away uncomfortably. He's figured me out by now – and he obviously doesn't appreciate me being in his house.

"I want a word with you," Mrs. Granger says to me as Aria flops down on the couch and reaches for a long thin device with little buttons on it. The word '_remote_' enters my head as I look at it. She points it at a square box with a screen and an image pops up. _'Television_'.

I follow the Grangers into the kitchen, and Mrs. Granger shuts the door behind me. I look around the small room curiously. In the middle of the table is a pile of papers. Bills? Letters?

"Sit," Mr. Granger orders. I sit down at the table automatically. I notice Mrs. Granger shoot him a look as she sits down across from me. Mr. Granger remains standing.

"If you don't mind me asking, what is this about?" I ask, feeling as if I'm about to be interrogated. "Because I really have to get home…"

"You're not leaving until we figure some things out," Mr. Granger growls. I clamp my mouth shut.

"Oh, honestly. If you're going to be rude, then go away," Mrs. Granger says angrily to her husband. Mr. Granger just rolls his eyes. I look away, feeling awkward about witnessing this.

"What is this about?" I repeat.

"Aria."

All of my feelings related to wanting to leave disappear. I stop fidgeting. Mrs. Granger notices this, and she smiles slightly.

"I'm sure you know," she adds. I nod.

"If you mean that I'm her…" I trail off, a picture of Aria with her ear pressed against the kitchen door suddenly popping into my head. I almost smile at the idea of it.

"Yes. Which is exactly why I need to speak to you," Mrs. Granger says. I glance at Mr. Granger, who is still glaring at me. Apparently it was my fault that Hermione came home pregnant and unmarried. Okay yeah, it _was_ partially my fault, but she's the one who left… I'm arguing with myself here. Wow, I must be going crazy.

"Um … okay."

"We have a copy of Hermione's will here," she says, pulling the papers toward her. I feel a chord in my chest tighten.

"Uh huh…"

"She wanted you to take Aria," she says bluntly.

"She did?" I ask in surprise, not sure if I want to believe her.

"Read it yourself," she says, handing me a sheet of paper. I take it hesitantly. I skim the paper, which basically says that Aria is to be left in the care of her father (in other words, me) should anything happen to her.

"Aria doesn't know," I say, kind of making it a question. Mrs. Granger glances up at Mr. Granger before looking back at me.

"Well, no. We were kind of thinking…"

"That you'd let me do it," I finish for her, my voice flat.

"Well, you are her father after all…"

I stand up and walk into the living room where Aria is still sitting on the couch. She looks up at me as I bang open the kitchen door, her expression slightly surprised, her eyebrows raised curiously.

"Hey," I say, sitting down on the end of the couch. She just stares at me, and I feel like I'm sitting under a bright light being scrutinized like some sort of bug under one of those Muggle microscope things.

"I'll be right back," she murmurs, unfolding her legs from underneath her. She stands up and stretches slightly. Then, with a tiny smile, she disappears down the hall. I hear a door close.

Left alone in Hermione's parents' living room, I sit back and close my eyes, letting this new revelation wash over me. Hermione wanted me to take Aria. Why? She left without even a good bye. No note or letter. If she left because she thought I wouldn't love her anymore because of Aria, then why would she put it in her will that _I_ take her little girl? It doesn't make sense to me.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Aria's POV

In the bathroom I sit on the edge of the tub with my head in my hands. The weight of everything that's happened since school let out is finally pressing down on me. Where am I going to go? I can't sleep on my grandparents' couch for the rest of my life. And what about school? Of course I'll have to go back, but it won't be the same. Other people my age – my classmates . . . they won't understand. I press against my temples, willing the throbbing in my head to stop.

Feeling tears pushing against the back of my eyes, I cover my face with my palms. The tears come anyway. I sink onto the floor and hold my legs against my chest, burying my face in my knees. Why is this happening to me? What did I ever do to deserve this? Is this some sort of punishment for pushing Mum about my father?

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Ron's POV

When the kitchen door opens, I open my eyes and raise my head. The Grangers look at me funny for a second or two as if trying to remember why I'm sitting in their living room. Mrs. Granger looks at Aria's empty spot curiously.

"She went that way," I murmur, pointing down the hall. Mrs. Granger nods and disappears. I moment later I hear her knock on a door and ask Aria if she's alright. I don't hear Aria's response.

"Hullo, Mr. Granger," I say quietly, trying to break the awkward silence that has fallen over the living room. He looks at me disapprovingly. I swallow nervously.

"It's been awhile," I say conversationally. He continues to glare.

"You broke her heart," he growls.

"Makes us even," I retort, feeling defensive all of a sudden. "She broke mine first."

"Don't you _dare_ talk about my daughter like that!" he snarls, his fists clenching. I wince at his tone.

"What do you want me to say?" I ask, blinking hard. "That she was a wonderful woman who never did a thing wrong in her life? You really want to remember her like that? _She _was the one who left, not me! _She_ took that little girl away from me! I didn't do a thing wrong!"

"No, nothing," he answers sarcastically. "You only got her pregnant out of wedlock and sent her packing!"

"I didn't even _know_ about Aria!" I nearly shout. "Why does everyone blame me for this? I never did anything! I _loved_ her! Why can't anyone understand that? I loved her! She got pregnant and she got scared, so she ran away! That was _her_ decision! If I had known about Aria, do you really think I would have let her go like that? Do you think I would have given up? I _loved_ her!"

-.-.-.-.-.-

Aria's POV

From the living room I hear raised voices, but I ignore them. The wet fabric of my very wrinkled black dress is scratchy against my cheeks, but I can't seem to stop the tears. I don't try to hold them back for once. I just let myself cry.

Grandma knocks on the door again. "Aria?"

"I'm fine!" I insist, my voice cracking slightly. Grandma mutters something to herself and leaves again. I stand up and wipe away the tears, taking big, shaky breaths to calm myself. I go to the sink and turn on the cold water. I splash my face quickly and dry my face with the hand towel hanging up by the mirror.

I lean against the sink and stare at my face in the mirror. It's a face I've seen thousands of times, but today it looks foreign to me. I trace the lines of my cheeks with my eyes, taking in every detail. The high cheekbones – obviously Mum's; my nose and the sweep of my jaw to my chin – same story. The freckles – something I've always hated about myself, but Meghan claims to envy with a passion – are most certainly not from the Granger side of my family tree. My hair, which is curly and kind of bushy is a half and half thing – the bushiness from Mum obviously, and most of the color. The reddish hue and curls – well obviously from the other side of my family. I just don't know who that could be.

As I look at my own face, I lean in closer until my nose is almost touching the glass. I stare into my eyes – a clear, bright blue with the slightest tinges of gray around the pupil. I trace the patterns slowly, deliberately avoiding looking at my face as a whole. Finally I can't stand it any longer. I pull back just a little bit and look_ at_ my eyes instead of into them. What I see nearly gives me a heart attack.

Those eyes – _my_ eyes! I realize with a jolt where I've seen Sean's dad's eyes before. I realize why it bugged me so much – why it seemed so simple. His eyes … they're my eyes. I shake my head. That can't be. I mean … he would have told me right? He had so many chances – numerous times over Christmas break, yesterday at the memorial service, this morning...

_He told me himself over Christmas that he couldn't tell me_, I remember. Of course not. Mum wouldn't have wanted him to.

I stare at my eyes again. There's no doubt. They're the same eyes. I wonder why I didn't realize it before. _I haven't even looked in the mirror since the end of June_. I was so afraid of what I'd see if I did.

-.-.-.-.-.-

Ron's POV

Mr. Granger and I glare at each other, both of us angry beyond words. How can he accuse me of breaking Hermione's heart when _she's _the one who left? Why am I the bad guy here? Everyone assumes it's my fault! They don't even know what happened!

"I looked for her for _three_ years," I say softly, my voice shaking violently. "I showed up on _your_ doorstep – right _here!_ – more times than I can count, trying to find _your daughter_! How can you accuse me of hurting her? How can you even think I'd want to? Why are you blaming me?"

"I don't want to discuss this," Mr. Granger says abruptly.

"Why, because you don't want to admit that I could be right? Because you know that you deliberately kept her from me? Because you're too damn stubborn to admit that what you did was wrong? Because –"

"SHUT UP!" he bellows, and I'm shocked to see tears swimming in his eyes. "You will not speak about Hermione like that in this house," he says, his voice low and steady. Then he turns without another word and walks out the front door. A moment later I hear a car start up and pull away from the house.

A few seconds later Aria comes back up the hallway, her eyes slightly puffy and red. She offers me a pained smile as she settles back down onto the couch beside me, a bit father away than she was before. She glances at me nervously.

"You okay?" I ask, concerned. She opens her mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. She closes her mouth, swallows, and tries again.

"Are…" she trails off, that one word hanging in the air between us. She swallows again. "Are you…" She shakes her head and looks away. "I can't do it," she mumbles to herself. I have the strangest feeling I know what she's trying to ask me.

"It's alright," I say gently. "That's what I need to talk to you about anyway."

She looks up at me sharply, but the hopeful look in her eyes is hard to miss. "You're seriously going to tell me about my father?" she asks bluntly. I find myself wincing even though her question is an innocent one.

"Yes."

"Why?" she asks, narrowing her eyes at me.

"What? Now you don't want me to tell you?" I ask, half joking.

"No, I do! I just… Why do _you_ want to tell me?" she asks, back pedaling quickly.

"Well first off, your grandparents are all but making me," I start with a small smile. She frowns at me. "And secondly, I would have anyway, because there's something you need to know about me."

"I already know," she murmurs, looking me dead in the eyes.

"Who told you?" I ask, playing along for now, just in case she really does know.

"No one."

"Then how do you know?" I ask, starting to get confused.

"I figured it out," she says, a slightly defiant look coming to her eyes as if she thinks I'd deny it.

"When?"

"About two minutes ago."

I look at her, glad she figured it out on her own in a way, so I don't have to find the right words to tell her who I am, but also kind of disappointed because I was almost looking forward to finally telling her.

She stares at me – almost glaring really – not blinking or moving her face. I look away, a bit unnerved.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" she asks after a while of awkward silence. I look back at her, and her eyes are accusing.

"I couldn't," I answer. I know my response isn't good enough from the look on her face. She _is_ Hermione's daughter after all. "I know your mum really wanted to tell you herself, on her terms, when she was ready."

"But _you're_ my…" she stops, not willing to let herself say it.

"Father," I finish for her. She nods. "I am," I confirm. "But your mum … she had some issues to work through when it came to me," I say hesitantly. Aria looks at me strangely, like she thinks I'm on drugs or something.

"You still could have told me," she mutters darkly, shifting positions to get more comfortable on the couch.

"If I had told you –"

"My mum might still be alive," she interrupts angrily, and I feel like someone just punched me really hard in the stomach. What did she just say?

"What are you talking about?" I ask sharply, not ready to believe she just said that.

"If you had just told me like I wanted you to, then she never would have been reaching into her purse for your damn picture, and she never would have spilled her water, and she never would have swerved into that truck!" she screeches, jumping up.

"Aria, honestly!" I scold her, shocked at this sudden mood swing. "How can you think like that?"

"Because it's true!" she nearly screams. "If you had just told me, this never would have happened and I wouldn't be sitting here right now not knowing where the hell I'm going to live for the next six years of my life!" she yells, tears starting up again. I stand up, and she backs away from me.

"That is not true," I say coldly. "You know that isn't true."

"Then why didn't you just tell me?" she asks softly, her voice shaking. She stares at me with hurt written all over her face.

"Aria, I wanted to. But your mum –"

"Quit blaming everything on her! You could have told me if you really wanted to! My mum wasn't the queen of the world or anything! If you had really wanted to tell me, you would have!"

"I did want to tell you," I insist, taking another step toward her. She moves away from me again.

"Couldn't have wanted to tell me that much or you would've already!"

"Enough," I say, getting really tired of her blaming me – _everyone_ blames me! "Listen to me, Aria. Your mum raised you all by herself, practically in secrecy because she was _afraid._ Afraid that I wouldn't love her after I found out about you, I guess. I don't know. The point is, she raised you by herself. She had the authority to tell me where my boundaries were. When she told me those boundaries, sure, I was a bit upset that I couldn't tell you, but I got over it. I respected her wishes because she was your mum, and I was just the guy who happened to be biologically related to you."

Aria glares at me. "I still think you should have told me," she mutters.

"I probably should have. But Hermione – your mum – she really wanted to tell you herself, so I didn't. We can't change that now. And don't you go around blaming me for her death when we both know it wasn't anyone's fault. Things like this just _happen_," I tell her, taking another step forward. This time she stands still.

She looks up at me, her eyes filled with tears again. "I just miss her so much," she whispers, a single tear sliding down her beautiful face that reminds me so much of Hermione.

"I know you do," I tell her, putting my arms around her tentatively. She leans against me and sniffs loudly. "We all do."

-.-.-.-.-

Aria's POV

Sean's dad – _my dad_ – hugs me in the same comforting way he's hugged me several times before, but this time it just feels different knowing he's my father. Weird different, but not bad different. I let him hug me for a few seconds before pulling away.

"What now?" I ask uncertainly, wiping my tears away. He looks down at me and sighs softly.

"Come sit back down," he says, leading me back to the couch. "We need to talk."

As soon as we're both sitting, I open my mouth to ask exactly what we need to talk about, but he holds up a hand to tell me to wait.

"I know you want to know what we need to talk about, and I'm going to tell you," he says gently. I nod and close my mouth.

"This is completely your choice," he starts, and I'm already confused. "If you don't want to, you don't have to. I just want to say that first. The thing is, your mum … well she wanted you to come live with … me if anything ever happened to her, but I understand completely if you don't want to. You'd probably rather stay here at your grandparents, and that's fine. Don't feel bad about it. You don't have to do anything you don't want to," he says, rambling. I hold up a hand, imitating him.

"You haven't even heard my answer yet," I say quietly. He shuts up and looks at me expectantly. I look at him – my father – _really_ look at him for the first time. It seems all so obvious to me where I got my freckles and my blue eyes and the reddish hair. Why didn't I see it before?

"Well?" he asks somewhat impatiently.

"Do you have an extra bedroom?" I ask, and a small smile tugs at the corners of his mouth.

"Sure do."

"Well … then I suppose … sure beats sleeping on the couch…" I trail of uncertainly and he smiles.

"If that's what you want," he says, trying to hold back a grin. It's almost like he's my age, getting excited about some Quidditch game or something.

"When can I move in?" I ask softly so Grandma won't hear. "Because I'm sick of it here."

"As soon as you want," he answers. I nod and stand up.

"How about today?"

He chuckles and nods. "Go grab your stuff."

I head to my grandparents' study where my school trunk is being stored. I dig around in it to find some unwrinkled clothes, but I didn't fold anything before leaving Hogwarts, and all my clothes are balled up or twisted. Guess I'll just have to deal with that. I shut the door and pull on jeans and a t-shirt quickly, stuffing the dress in my trunk unceremoniously.

"Leaving so soon?" Grandma asks, standing in the doorway with a sad look on her face. "Everyone seems to leave for that man," she murmurs to herself, and I feel defensive for him suddenly.

"That's not true," I snap, and she looks at me with surprise. "It wasn't his fault," I mutter, dragging my trunk into the living room where Mr. Weasley – my _dad_ – is still sitting on the couch.

"I'll miss you," Grandma says, trying to make up. I turn to her and give her the obligatory hug.

"Miss you too," I lie. If I never step foot in this house again it'll be too soon, but I can't say that to my grandmother. She'd probably have a heart attack and then it really would be my fault that someone died.

"Are you ready then?" Mr. Weas– I mean, my father – asks, standing up. I nod.

"I'm sure we'll be seeing each other," Grandma says to him, not sounding at all like this is a good thing. He nods and holds out his hand for her to shake. She takes it hesitantly, not quite familiar with his formalness.

"I'm sure," he says back with a twisted sort of smile. I can tell he's looking forward to it almost as much as Grandma is.

"Take care," she says to me, giving me another hug. I feel myself stiffen slightly at her tight squeeze, but she lets go pretty fast.

"I love you," I say to her after a pause, knowing it's expected. She smiles and kisses my forehead.

"I love you too, Aria. More than you know."

I feel tears spring to my eyes at the familiar words that Mum used to say to me almost every day, but I blink them back. My hand jumps to my neck as I realize that I haven't seen that locket since the accident. I was wearing it that day.

"Grandma," I say suddenly, looking up at her, practically panicked now.

"Yes, dear?"

"At the hospital… Did they happen to have… a-a locket?" I ask. Her brow furrows as she tries to remember, but then her eyes light up.

"Hold on." She disappears down the hall to her bedroom, and my father looks down at me in confusion.

"Is this it?" she asks, holding out the locket I've nearly forgotten about until now. I grab it and clutch it to me.

"Yes," I murmur. I hold the locket close and suddenly it grows warm in my hand, and I hear the faintest _click_.

* * *

**A/N**: Next chapter is the last one! It'll be short too – like, really really short. More like an epilogue, but I really wanted to end this chapter like this. Please review! I worked hard on this chapter! Cheers!


	16. Homecoming Aria

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Harry Potter or any of J.K. Rowling's other characters, locations, etc. I also don't own the song 'Goodnight My Angel' (that will make sense once you've read the chapter).

**A/N**: This is it everyone! 'Tis sad, I know, but I'm going to do the sequel, so there's a little happy right? Yeah I know, it just isn't the same! But you'll live. And this chapter won't be very long because it's just wrapping everything up into a pretty little package for you (yeah that was a bad metaphor – but you want me to save those creative juices for writing the actual story, right? So bad metaphors can be overlooked)! I just want to say thanks to all my reviewers – especially the ones that stuck with me all through this story (or at least for most of the chapters). I love you guys! Happy Reading!

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**Chapter Sixteen: A Homecoming Aria**

_Aria's POV_

"_At the hospital… Did they happen to have… a-a locket?" I ask. Her brow furrows as she tries to remember, but then her eyes light up._

"_Hold on." She disappears down the hall to her bedroom, and my father looks down at me in confusion._

"_Is this it?" she asks, holding out the locket I've nearly forgotten about until now. I grab it and clutch it to me._

"_Yes," I murmur. I hold the locket close and suddenly it grows warm in my hand, and I hear the faintest _click_._

-:-:-:-:-:-:-

I don't say anything about the locket as my father (it still feels weird to think about him like that) takes my arm.

"Ready?" he asks, looking down at me. I look up at Grandma and attempt to smile at her. She just looks at me sadly.

"Ready," I answer. His grip on my arm tightens and the now almost-familiar sensation of apparating surrounds me. A second later we're standing in his – I guess now _our_ – living room.

"Do you want to see your room?" he asks. "It's nothing special, but I'm sure we can fix it up," he adds.

"Sure," I reply as he releases my arm. I follow him up the same staircase I saw Sean disappear up this morning – was it really only this morning? I'm half expecting it to be a bit like the Burrow – several different landings with only a couple doors on each – but it's not. The staircase leads up to a large open area – kind of like a really large landing but not quite. There's a miniature library set up in the middle of the area, and four doors leading off of it, and then another staircase.

"This way," he says, leading me toward the stairs. I follow him, dragging my heavy trunk behind me with one hand and clutching the locket with the other hand. I don't dare look at it to see if I can actually open it until I'm by myself.

This staircase is short, and leads up to another large open area with four doors leading off. This house is bigger than I thought it was. Two of the four doors are open slightly. I can hear low voices coming from one of them. The other is a bathroom – a fairly large bathroom at that.

"Over here." I follow my father to one of the closed doors. He turns the knob and swings it open for me. The room is pretty good-sized, but rather plain. There's a bed, not that different from my bed at Hogwarts, and a bookshelf without any books on it. There's a wardrobe in one corner, and a comfy-looking armchair set up near the bookshelf. Under the large west-facing window is a desk and chair.

"Nice," I say when I notice him looking at me expectantly. He smiles ruefully.

"I'm sure I can get Keira to help you fix it up. We'll get new bedding and a rug maybe?" he looks around the room to see what else I'll need. "Definitely new curtains," he says distastefully. I look at the window to see old yellowing curtains with ugly little flowers on them.

"Who picked out those?" I ask, thinking I probably know the answer already. He looks at me sheepishly.

"They were fine when I bought them. I guess the sun discolored them," he says, and I feel a smile tugging at my lips.

"Well, I'll leave you alone to settle in," he says uncertainly, backing out of the room. "If you need anything I'm just downstairs."

The door closes and I look around the room again. Those curtains really are ugly. But I look past them and settle onto the bed carefully, kicking off my shoes and sitting cross-legged on top of the dusty old comforter.

I look down at the locket still clutched in my hand. The picture on the front hasn't changed since the last time I saw it, but the locket itself is slightly damaged from the car accident. Taking a deep breath I turn it on its side and look at the latch. It doesn't look any different than it did at the end of school.

I insert my fingernail into the crack and try to pry the locket open, bracing myself for disappointment. The latch gives easily and the locket falls open in my hand. Immediately a soft melody – an _aria_ if you will – begins to play quietly. The tune is familiar, but I haven't heard it in years. I feel tears well up in my eyes once again as very quietly, words sung by my mum start to accompany the melody.

_Goodnight, my angel, now it's time to sleep_

_And save these questions for another day._

_I think I know what you've been asking me,_

_I think you know what I've been trying to say._

_I promised I would never leave you,_

_And you should always know,_

_Wherever you may go,_

_No matter where you are,_

_You always will be part of me._

_Goodnight, my angel, time close your eyes,_

_And still so many things I want to say._

_Remember all the songs you sang for me,_

_When we went sailing on an emerald bay._

_And like a boat upon the ocean,_

_I'm rocking you to sleep,_

_The water's dark and deep,_

_Inside this ancient heart,_

_You always will be part of me._

_Goodnight, my angel now it's time to dream,_

_And dream how wonderful your life will be._

_Someday your child may cry, and if you sing this lullaby,_

_Then in your heart, there will always be a part of me._

_Someday we'll all be gone, but lullabies go on and on,_

_They never die, that's how you and I will be._

The words fade, but the lullaby's melody keeps playing as tears fall, and quiet sobs make their way out of my throat.

After a minute or so, I wipe away my tears as the melody slowly fades, and see if there's anything in the locket I missed. What I see makes tears spring back into my eyes.

There are two pictures inside. On the right is a picture of Mum and me from two summers ago when we went to Eva's parents' lake house. In the picture, we're sitting on the boat, our hair flying behind us, smiling and waving at the camera. Mum's arms are around my waist and she's hugging me tight against her. I smile sadly at the memory of that day. We were so happy.

The other picture makes a knot form in my stomach. It's a picture of Mum and my father. It was obviously taken a long time ago – before I was born. Only their faces are in the picture, and a bit of their necks, so I can't see where they are, but they look so happy just to be near each other. It's hard to believe Mum would just pick up and leave everything. How could she be so scared that my father wouldn't love her anymore that she just left without a word of good-bye to anyone? How could she have honestly thought he wouldn't love her anymore? I hardly even know him and I could tell he cared for her even then at Christmas. Why was she so afraid?

It occurs to me that she might have been ashamed of me, and that's why she ran away, but I don't think that's it. I'm pretty sure that what everyone else has told me is true – she left because she was afraid. A coward more like. A bubble of resentment forms inside of me, but I squash it quickly. It might have been her fault that I never knew about my father, but I don't have to hate her for it. She did it because she loved me.

I wipe away the tears again and close the locket quietly. I look around my new room – soon to be redecorated of course – and I take a big, shuddering breath. Everything has changed so much in the last year.

-.-.-.-.-.-

Ron's POV

I stand in the kitchen, looking out over the front lawn of our home with a cup of coffee in my hand. Abby and Jake are swinging on the big wooden tree swing Dad hung for Abby two years ago. Well, Abby is swinging, and Jake is pushing her somewhat reluctantly. Sean and Henry are sitting on the grass together, but Sean's ignoring his brother, reading a book – since when does Sean read? Henry is playing with some toy or another.

I feel a pang in my chest when I realize that Aria hasn't exactly been invited to join them outside on such a nice day. But she probably doesn't want to hang out with people and act normal just now. I don't really either. I think of her holed up in her room like she has been for the last two hours, and I sigh. She has a lot of adjusting to do.

Turning my back to the window, I lean against the counter and stare around our kitchen. Nothing has changed, unless you count the new hand on our clock. I turn to look at it.

I look at Aria's hand, and I feel a jolt in my stomach – a good jolt, not a bad one – when I notice that her hand is pointing in the same direction as Keira's, Henry's, Abby's, Sean's, Jake's, and mine. It's pointing to _Home.

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_**A/N**: That's all folks! Aw, isn't this sad? The story's finally over. But it was good, right? By the way, the lullaby 'Goodnight My Angel' by Billy Joel, is one of my favorite lullabies – my mom used to sing it to me when I was little. I just want to say thanks to all of my reviewers and readers – you're all amazing! Cheers!


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